


Chosen

by assassi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Auror Ron Weasley, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Veela Draco Malfoy, Veela lore, infertility issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-05 08:06:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 64,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15166280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assassi/pseuds/assassi
Summary: Veela.What did he know about Veela?Fleur was a Veela.Ron had all but specialized in their culture, helped by his sister-in-law, and doing a damn good job with that knowledge in his everyday work in the Department of Inter-Species Communications (when he wasn’t on a mission as an Auror).Veela were obsessed with the idea of one and only possible true love.Veela had mates.Veela mated for life.





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and thank you for choosing to give this story a chance! :) So, this is my take on the Drarry Veela frenzy :) I tried to include more (autentic) Veela lore. I had to. If you stick with me till the end, you'll find out why ;) So, here, I hope you enjoy this story. If so, feel free to review and tell me so :)
> 
> But if not... Call me childish but let's agree on this: if you don't have anything good to say about this story - just don't say ANYTHING. It's completely your right to not like it but keep that to yourself. If you stumble on something you disagree on just stop right there and forget you ever came across this fic. It might not mean anything to you or you might feel compelled to pour out your bad opinion but please just don't. Because to me, this story means a lot and it took me a while even after it was finished to decide to start posting it. So if you don't like it that's fine - just move on quietly.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and its characters.

“Draco! Draco, come back here! Draco….!”, Narcissa sobbed.

Lucius’ strong hand rubbed her shoulder gently. “Let him go, love. Give him some space, some time”, he said softly.

She could only helplessly watch as her boy ran; away from them, from her. He was upset, she knew he was. And she couldn’t really help him. She closed her eyes, leaning back in her husband’s embrace.

Draco Malfoy ran through the vast gardens of Malfoy Manor; he ran as fast as he could. He couldn’t stop the tears, couldn’t ignore the chaos in his head, the havoc his parents’ words had wreaked. His chest was heaving painfully, his head ached. He was running and he felt like he was caged.

He finally couldn’t take it anymore – he collapsed on the ground, giving in to the bitter tears.

It had all been decided – his whole future. And not only because he was the son of the Malfoys, a pureblood heir who had to take the responsibility that came with that name. That however was not the whole reason that his future and his every decision had been taken away from him.

He had just learnt that he would never have the choice to actually choose who to fall in love with. It had already been decided for him; in fact his one and only perfect Mate might have just been born… or they might even be older than him… or his age. Or (panic bubbled inside him) might not even exist yet. Or (even more panic) might never love him back, even if he did somehow find that one and only person in this whole world. It didn’t matter for his inhuman genes. It didn’t matter for the Veela inside him, who’d always search for that perfect Mate… and would never be sated with anyone else… would never be happy with anyone else… would never be complete without that perfect partner…

Draco sobbed and then suddenly laughed bitterly. Ah, those would be the emotions. Those, that were hard to control, like even his father had said. His always composed father, who obviously, and unbeknown to Draco, was a slave to those same emotions.

His parents were Veela. And now, on his 11th birthday, they had just told Draco that being one as well, he was cursed to always look for his one and only possible true love.

 


	2. Draco's worst nightmare

The sound of silver bells made Draco groan and blindingly search for his wand to dispel the alarm charm. He had tossed around nearly the whole night and when he was finally able to fall asleep the stupid charm had woken him up for work.

He sighed and slowly sat up in his huge bed. Its size, carefully chosen with the intention of containing a Mate someday and still be comfortable and provide enough space for both of them, felt more and more empty every morning. The same ache in his chest, the one he had been feeling for months now, reminded him why he had been restless the whole night, why the same restlessness followed him throughout the day; why he was always cold these days, something confirmed as he put his feet on the floor and still hissed from the cold, even with the thick carpet; why he had dark circles under his eyes from the insomnia and why he could barely eat. Damn. Even his colleagues were starting to notice, even with everything he did to dampen his symptoms.

Draco sighed, dropping his gaze from the mirror in the bathroom and rummaging for his potions, meant to lessen the pain, caused by his stubbornness as his mother liked to put it. He found his last dose and made a note to himself to prepare some more. Along with some dreamless sleep potion… some pepper-up potion too.

 _“Or you could just tell him. Admit it”,_ a tiny voice in his head said.

But if it was that simple Draco wouldn’t feel like crap for over half a year already. He sighed again, drank his potions and put on his mask, looking back up at the mirror and the strong façade of Prosecutor Malfoy.

“Man up. You survived a war _and_ the consequences of being on its wrong side”, he told his reflection.

Just another few hours in the Ministry and then he’ll retreat to his quiet lab.

* * *

 

The Ministry’s hallways were always crowded. It seemed every wizard and witch had business here, dragging in their brats as well. Was it really necessary to come all the way here when most of all those people could have just sent an owl? Granted, if would have most likely been ignored, as bureaucracy demanded, but still…

Draco wasn’t really antisocial or misanthropic. Or at least not usually. He just wasn’t in the mood to be bumped into, shoved at in elevators and generally be anywhere near anyone (with one exception) right now. Maybe he could use some of his old Seeker’s feints and get away quicker, using a less crowded path to his office…

Someone bumped into Draco right then, causing his body to shake viciously; not from the force of the impact though, but from the sheer touch of the man’s body to Draco’s own. And he didn’t even have to look up and see who it was. There was only one person who had such power over Draco.

Seriously though? In a place as crowded as that, what was the possibility to collide with _him_ of all people?!

“Uh, sorry…”, Harry muttered, clearly in a hurry.

“Sure you are…”, Draco hissed, pissed off. The brunette spared him a look, confused by his hostility and quickly walked away, shouting to someone to hold the elevator.

And having absolutely no clue what explosive reaction his meager touch had caused in Draco’s body.

Draco was panting. He was so painfully hard that it wasn’t even the slightest bit enjoyable. He only hoped his robes hid that fact as he ran into the nearest bathroom and tried desperately to relieve himself of his problem as quickly and silently as possible. It took him nearly ten minutes when it would have taken only another small touch from the raven haired Auror. He walked out of the stall, staggering, grabbing the sink and looking up at the mirror again. His face was red and sweaty. The mask had slipped, showing a pained expression he was just so tired to see, so tired…

Damn Veela genes. Damn Mates. Damn Harry Potter.

Who was straight and dating Ginny Weasley.

* * *

 

Harry Potter was a man on a mission. A life-changing mission, demanding a wise advice from a wise friend, preferably of the female gender.

“Is it… too big? Like, overwhelming or something?”

Hermione bent down and took a good look at the ring Harry was holding.

“Well… it’s a little… kitschy”, she observed.

“What does that even mean?”, Harry frowned.

“It means you should probably choose another. That is… if…”

“If…?”

Hermione sighed. “Look, Harry… I know you don’t want to hear it, especially right now, but if I don’t say it now, you might reg-…”

“Just say it, Mione.”

“Well… I just wanted to make sure that you’re sure. I mean… Look, I like Ginny, I really do, but are you making a proposal because that just seems like the logical thing to do, like something you’re expected to do, or do you _really_ love her?”

“What kind of question is that? Of course I love her…”

“Or it just makes sense that you marry her?”

“Mione! Just because you and Ron didn’t work out…”

“That was a low blow, Harry.”

“…I’m sorry.”

“There was a whole other reason for that.”

“You never did tell me why you two broke up.”

“I… Not now, Harry, okay? Just… not now.”

“Okay. Okay. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Just make sure you’re making the right decision. The one your heart is demanding, not what the world expects. And I’m talking about both the ring and the marriage proposal.”

“Yeah. Uhm, yeah, thank you. For the advice.”

She smiled sadly and kissed him on the cheek.

“My break’s over, I should go. Call me if you need anything.”

“I will. Thanks”, Harry said, still a little confused by her words. His brow furrowed in deep thought as he turned back to look at the infinite display of engagement rings. None of them seemed to be what he was looking for.

* * *

 

It was a simple enough mission. He’d accomplished much more complicated assignments and knew he was capable to complete the job now as well. But it wasn’t his self-assurance that tricked him. He was always careful, never underestimating an enemy. To this day, Harry didn’t know what happened exactly. But in the end… everything went to hell.

“Garett, get down! Down!”, Harry yelled, casting a Protego and throwing a curse at their attackers. The new kid was dumbfounded, totally thunderstruck. Harry muttered a curse, one that had nothing to do with magic, and ran towards the Junior Auror. “Garett, get the f-…”

The first curse took him from the back. Another few followed, some resulting in nasty gashes, meant to cause severe bleeding. Harry managed to turn around and cast a few well-aimed curses before he fell to the ground.

Blood was pooling underneath him. Everything hurt and everything felt numb, both at the same time. Harry’s vision was graying.

Between his twitching fingers a thin golden ring rolled right in the middle of the bloody puddle.

* * *

 

Miles away from the crime scene Draco Malfoy bolted in his bed, panting harshly, eyes wide with terror, cold sweat making him shiver uncontrollably. That hadn’t been just a normal nightmare. Something primal, buried deep inside him screamed at him how his Perfect Other Half was in very real mortal danger. Panic made him scramble ungracefully out of bed. His last remaining common sense made him put on the first trousers he grabbed before instincts made him do something he had never done in public as an adult, something Veela did only for their mates – he spread his wings and flew to his chosen’s rescue.


	3. The Angel

Harry’s consciousness flicked in and out. He was half aware of the people screaming somewhere near him, demanding help for him, scared they might lose him. Even in his state Harry knew how close he was to death. He was getting closer with each drop of blood, oozing onto the ground beneath him. The people around him were trying to stop the bleeding but could do nothing about the internal damage – they were no Healers, just fellow Aurors, trying desperately to save one of their own. Patronus charms flew all around, sent to call up medi-witches, to contact the Minister, to contact friends.

“HARRY!”, Ron’s terrified voice boomed from afar, getting closer; he was probably called from his own mission, now abandoned in the name of his best friend.

“Out of the way, out of the way!”, someone yelled and Harry’s blurry eyes caught that ugly green color of St. Mungo’s uniforms.

“Harry! How long has it been since he was attacked? What’s his status? Somebody better report right the hell now!”, Kingsley demanded.

“HARRY!”, Ron yelled again, now closer.

But before he could reach him something else did.

* * *

 

Draco had no time and no chance to enjoy the flight, the feeling of the wind blowing in his face as he flew with the speed of the light. It had been months since he’d afforded a leave to go somewhere isolated enough to allow himself to spread his wings. It felt like ages since he last flew. But right now something was more important. More important than the flight, more important than his own life.

His chosen’s life was quickly fading away. And he felt that with every fiber of his being.

 _“Please, please hold on!”,_ Draco begged.

The muscles on his back hurt. His wings hurt. He had never flown so fast before.

He was right above the crime scene he had just seen in his dreams in a matter of minutes. He dove down, descended like a vengeful beast, blind for the wands, pointed at him, deaf for the screams. He was completely focused on Harry Potter’s unnervingly unmoving pale form. And the pooling blood.

Someone tried to block him from reaching his Chosen, but Draco pushed them away. Before anyone could do anything he spread his wings protectively over the fallen Auror and focused all of his magic in healing his wounds. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered why there weren’t any hexes flying his way. No one tried to harm him or pull him away, though, and thank Merlin for that. Because Draco wasn’t letting his Chosen die.

* * *

 

“No, stop, STOP!”

Ron’s last yell was aimed at his fellow Aurors as he tried to stop them from throwing curses at the vengeful looking creature. Who, Ron knew, wasn’t intent on hurting Harry at all.

“He will not hurt Harry!”, Ron told his colleagues. “If anything, that’s his only chance…”, he added brokenly, with quiet admiration.

“Weasley! Explain!”, Kingsley demanded.

“I believe you’re aware this guy is a Veela, sir”, Ron said. “And there’s only one occasion a Veela would show their wings in public – for their mate. Right now that guy is channeling all of his magic in healing Harry and the wings are protecting them both from intruders and enemies.”

“Harry is a Veela’s mate?”, Kingsley frowned, confused.

“Not yet, I think. I believe he’s a Chosen. That guy probably hasn’t told Harry anything yet, hasn’t properly introduced himself and asked for Harry’s acceptance. Or Harry would have told me. I’m guessing this guy’s Veela side has chosen Harry for a mate, but since Harry hasn’t agreed yet, it’s common to stick with the term _Chosen_.”

Kingsley regarded his Auror with a new look of respect.

“How do you know all that?”

Ron smirked. “I specialize in Inter-Species Communications, sir. _And_ , my sister-in-law is a Veela.”

He focused back on the scene. All they could see were the huge wings, obscuring everything else from vision. Just who exactly was this mysterious Veela?

* * *

 

Harry opened his eyes. That was painful. Even more painful was looking up at the blinding light surrounding a face he couldn’t quite see. He barely caught a glimpse of white feathers.

Ah… so an Angel had really come for him.


	4. The truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know, this story is already finished. Otherwise I wouldn't have pointed out that it has 25 chapters, I wouldn't even have started uploading it, since I have bad experience with fics I have started uploading and hadn't finished. So I do not do that anymore. I would like to thank you for all the amazing reviews but also - to let you know that even if you don't like certain parts or have a suggestion or want to see something in particular: not gonna happen. It took me a whole age to finish this story, it is finally done and it is what it is. I really hope you enjoy it but I'm not going to rewrite it if you don't.   
> All the love,  
> assassi

“…amazing… with his injuries… full recovery…”

“…the bond… ancient magic, after all…”

All Harry could hear were pieces of the muffled conversation, separate words and phrases, uttered with utmost respect and amazement.

“But it’s incomplete…?”

“It was enough to keep him alive.”

Alive. Were they talking about him? Was he… alive?

“I wonder how he would react…”

“What do you mean how? It’s so rare and pure…”

“He doesn’t know that. And, after all, it’s Ma-… wait. Harry? Harry, are you awake?”

He was now. Yep. Alive and kind of awake. If he was dead, he wouldn’t be in so much pain. The sound that came from his weak and dry throat was pitiful.

“Call him in! Quickly!”

Someone ran out of the room. In a minute, two people ran back in. Someone grabbed his hand, with surprising gentleness given the quick and urgent motion. The pain disappeared abruptly. Harry sighed blissfully. A thumb stroked the back of his hand soothingly. The hand gripping his trembled just slightly.

He was safe now. He could go back to sleep.

* * *

 

Harry opened his eyes, blinking a few times. He was no longer in pain. In fact he felt… strangely relaxed and full of energy. He looked around the room he recognized as one of St. Mungo’s.

The girl sitting next to his bed, dozing off, wasn’t Ginny. It was Hermione.

Feeling his eyes on her, her own eyes suddenly snapped open and she beamed at him.

“Harry! Oh, thank Merlin! How are you feeling?”

“Better than ever in fact”, Harry admitted, frowning at the realization. “Where’s Ginny?”, he asked.

It was Hermione’s turn to frown.

“She… well, it’s a long story, Harry and I think you better hear it from Ron…”

“Ron?”

“Yes. He’s here, he’s just making sure…”

She was interrupted by Ron himself, as he walked in, hands nervously rubbing over his face. He sighed and murmured,

“I knew it; he went too far. Healers said he collapsed because he almost drained all of his magic into… Harry! Hey!”

“Who collapsed? What happened?”

“Well done, Ron…”, Hermione muttered; but she looked more worried than annoyed.

“Well. Look, ma-.. ugh, buddy, let’s ugh.. let’s make sure that you’re… Damn, we don’t have time for this. Okay. This is gonna be sudden and kinda crazy and scary…”

“You’re already scaring him, Ron.”

“… but basically… Draco Malfoy saved your life. And now his is in danger. And, basically, only you can save him.”

Harry was on his feet in a second, swaying from the sudden movement, shaking his head when both of his friends reached out to steady him.

“What can I do? How do I help him?”

Ron looked uneasy. “He just needs your touch”, he admitted.

Harry frowned again. “My touch? What are you playing at, Ron, now’s not the time for jokes or…”

“No joke, ma-… Harry.”

“Will somebody finally tell me what the hell is going on!?”, Harry yelled.

“Malfoy’s a Veela”, Hermione blurted.

Ron sighed, sounding defeated. “Well done, love.”

Hermione was too busy blushing and gaping at Ron’s slipped term of endearment and Ron was too busy trying to come up with some sort of more decent explanation and Harry was just stunned there.

Veela.

What did he know about Veela?

Fleur was a Veela.

Ron had all but specialized in their culture, helped by his sister-in-law, and doing a damn good job with that knowledge in his everyday work in the Department of Inter-Species Communications (when he wasn’t on a mission as an Auror).

Veela were obsessed with the idea of one and only possible true love.

Veela had mates.

Veela mated for life.

They could die without their mate.

Harry ran out of the room, frantically looking around. He grabbed a Healer who was passing by and half-yelled, half-demanded Malfoy’s room number. The shocked Healer stuttered out the info and Harry ran again, ignoring Ron and Hermione’s worried calls. He finally found the room and burst in. He only had the time to register: 1. Narcissa Malfoy’s shocked and tearstained face and 2. Draco Malfoy’s deathly pale unmoving body before he acted on his instincts and grabbed one sickly pale hand.

Nothing happened at first and Harry was about to curse in frustration when he noticed the smallest of changes occurring in Malfoy’s body. The hand he was holding on to was no longer as cold as it had been; some color was slowly creeping back on the blonde’s face; he began breathing easier.

Harry let a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding back.

“It’s working…”, he murmured, awed.

“You were just on time”, Narcissa whispered, sounding like she was holding back a sob; she probably was, Harry decided when he looked up at her, but she tried to smile at him as she said brokenly, “Thank you.”

It took seven more hours before grey eyes finally blinked open and stared right into Harry’s own green orbs. Malfoy smiled slowly, contently.

Feeling lost, Harry forced a small smile in return.

He had no idea what to say.

* * *

 

While Malfoy had still been asleep Ron had explained to Harry that the Veela and Harry still weren’t truly bonded as Mates.

“It takes your expressly consent to be considered and treated as Mates by Wizarding Law and it takes a Bonding Ritual for the Veela Bond to be complete.”

Harry could feel all the capital letters and their meaning, hung heavily on his shoulders.

Mates or not, it seemed that even being Malfoy’s Chosen had been enough to be saved by the blonde and enough to later save the same blonde. It was another level of bond that was still mostly a riddle for the wizarding world.

Ginny hadn’t visited him. She had only sent a small note saying that she understood the situation and was giving Harry and Malfoy some time to figure things out and she and Harry will talk in a few days. Harry had the strange nagging feeling that she had been meaning to have that talk with him either way, even if the accident hadn’t happened.

Few things were clear in this situation and one of them was that Malfoy was now fine and Harry had basically no reason to keep staying by his bed… besides the Chosen/Mate thing. Which he still didn’t completely understand, despite Ron’s attempts to educate him on the matter.

In fact it was something Ron said that was the last little push Harry needed to just up and leave.

“Wait. You said he’s been aware of this for a while?”

“Well, yeah. Usually, Veela have a kind of a foreseeing dream about their future mate. It’s how they usually pinpoint their Chosen; it’s very rare for a Veela to just choose someone they find attractive and suitable for them. It’s usually based on some very deep magic, very primal you could say. Half magic, half instincts maybe.”

“So he knew?”, Harry asked again, just to be absolutely sure.

“For a while now, I’d say”, Ron nodded.

“Then why did he keep quiet?”

“I don’t know, ma-… Harry.”

Ron had abruptly stopped calling him ‘mate’. He said it was because it could become very ugly if Malfoy and Harry really became Mates one day and Malfoy heard someone else call Harry like that; best friend or not.

Malfoy had known they were meant to be, according to his Veela genes, but had still kept his mouth shut about it. Maybe he thought Harry wasn’t suitable for him and his pureblood family. Maybe he didn’t want a male Mate, who couldn’t provide him with heirs. Maybe there was just too much bad blood between them, too many bad memories, even after the War, even after their awkward and tense reconciliation. Maybe Malfoy just couldn’t accept him as a Mate, no matter what his Veela hormones said about it.

Either way, Harry had no desire to keep sticking around just to find out what exactly Malfoy’s reason was for obviously not really wanting him as a Mate.

* * *

 

It seemed Malfoy was finally ready to talk though and was now intent on revealing all of his reasons to Harry. He strode into his work chambers a few days after Harry had left him in the hospital, politely, but determinedly asking Harry’s secretary (yes, he had one as a Senior Auror) to be let in Harry’s actual office. Completely swooned by the blonde’s Veela genes, allure, sheer handsomeness or whatever, Shelley immediately announced his arrival and let him in, quickly excusing herself, probably to go squeal in the other room.

Harry needed a new secretary.

He looked up from his paperwork and reluctantly motioned for Malfoy to sit down. He did so, awkwardly clearing his throat.

“I… wanted to thank you. For, you know… not letting me die”, the blonde blurted out.

He still looked pale and not completely healed though, Harry noticed. His skin wasn’t as deathly pale as it had been in the hospital, but still lacked that healthy shine one would expect from a strong 20-something man. Stormy grey eyes were still kind of dull, their look worsened by the dark shadows under them. It was obvious that the blonde was still recuperating. 

“You were the one who saved me first”, Harry pointed out.

To his surprise, Malfoy snorted, kind of bitterly. “Well, that would be a first, would it not? It’s usually you who always save me.”

Harry knew what he meant: the Fiendfyre, the trials…

“They told me only a Veela could do this for their…”, Harry frowned, cutting himself off awkwardly.

“Yes”, Malfoy just said.

And that… that somehow infuriated Harry more than anything else.

* * *

 

“So how long?”, Harry asked, his voice sharp and biting.

“How long…?”, Draco would have liked to be able to be harsher, but his Veela side simply couldn’t seem to muster the usual snarky attitude. At least not towards his Mate-would-be(-if-he-chooses-to-and-he-must-because-he-is-perfect-and-there-is-no-one-better-for-you-than-him). Draco wanted to slap said Veela side in that particular moment.

“How long have you known about you being Veela, about you being… attracted?, to me…”, Harry looked confused and not in the good way. Draco sighed.

“I’ve known that I’m a Veela since I became 11 and my parents told me about my heritage. I… started having the Foreseeing dreams about my Perfect Other Half - that would be you – six months ago. At first I tried to ignore them…”

“Why?”, Harry asked harshly.

Draco looked at the man with what he hoped was the “isn’t-it-obvious” look.

“Because I am with Ginny?”

“No”, Draco said, but saw the narrowed green eyes and quickly corrected himself to “not only.”

“Because all this is your petty attempt at a joke?”, Potter hissed.

Draco flinched. He even stepped back. The moment his conscience was able to call Harry “Potter” again, he knew it was over. He had been rejected.

“…because of this”, Draco simply said, trying to sound… less broken than he was.

Because of this very moment. Because of Potter’s reaction, just now. Of course _that_ had been Draco’s reason to try and ignore the Dreams. He knew he’d be rejected, considering their past. After that night, after it had become impossible to ignore _that_ dream and he knew he’d eventually have to confess and explain soon… he had just hoped he wouldn’t be mocked by the Boy Wonder.

And now he was.

He tried to save some dignity and managed to nod politely as he left – hopefully with as good posture as ever and not hunched shoulders – and prepared for the Mourning.

He knew he wouldn’t (necessarily) die just because his Chosen had rejected him. And even though at the moment his mind screamed in panic that he’d never find anyone more suitable to be his Mate, Draco knew he’d be able to move on. Eventually. But first… there would be at least a month of grieving about the lost chance of perfect love; with his luck maybe even two months. There would be pain – physical and emotional. Depression. Suicide thoughts. Yeah… just peachy.

As he went to fill an application for a sick leave Draco decided, once again, that he hated his Veela side.

* * *

 

Harry didn’t know why he said all that. Obviously, Malfoy wasn’t joking. Not about that. Otherwise he wouldn’t have needed Harry’s touch just to wake up in the hospital. He wouldn’t have looked as devastated as he had looked right before he had left Harry’s office…

Something twisted unpleasantly somewhere in Harry’s chest.

He shouldn’t have been such an ass and acted like a total bastard just now.

But he was so pissed off! Everyone kept telling him what joy, what an honor it was to be Chosen and later maybe even Mated to a Veela! But no one asked him! About his life, his choices, his opinion on the matter! He had a girlfriend, for Merlin’s sake, and had been about to ask her to marry him! No one had cared how scared Harry was when he thought the Mate Bond was already set and anything he said or did to break it might kill Malfoy; how relieved he had been when it had turned out that he was still only a Chosen and actually had some choice to decline and refuse to become an actual Mate; how… confused he was now, sitting in his office, having witnessed Malfoy’s devastation at his refusal, even as he knew it wouldn’t kill him…

And Malfoy still hadn’t told him his reasons for keeping the info about their unfinished bond to himself.

_“…because of this…”_

What the hell did that mean? What in Merlin’s name had the infuriating prat wanted to say?

 


	5. Breaking up and breaking apart

Ginny looked calm as she sat across from Harry in the small café she had chosen for their meeting; but her fingers gripped the cup of tea nervously. It was the first time they were seeing each other after Harry’s incident and he couldn’t help but blame her a little for not contacting him in the hospital or at least after he had been discharged, despite of his own attempts to see her.

“Harry”, she started softly, but determinedly, “I’ve wanted to talk to you for quite some time. I kept finding excuses, kept postponing that talk, but now, seeing as things have changed for you too…”

“Just say it, Ginny, whatever it is. Let it out”, Harry urged, tired of prolonging, nervous with the possibilities.

“I think we need to take a rest. From each other”, Ginny said quietly.

Harry was dumbstruck. She wanted to break up? Because that was the meaning of “taking a rest from each other”, Harry was no fool. Or was he? He had bought that girl a ring. He had been so sure…

“Why?”, he asked just as quietly. “Is it because of Malfoy’s Veela issues? Or was that just another convenient excuse?”

“Harry…”, Ginny sighed. “Let’s face it. We had a great time together, always have. But you don’t love me. You’ve only ever seen me as the logical choice. The mother of your kids maybe, sure, but not the love of your life. And… and I don’t blame you, Harry, I really don’t. Because it’s the same for me too. I love you, I do, but… It’s not that passionate, mad, burning, can’t-live-without-you love. And I’ve seen that. And I want it. I want _that_ , Harry.”

Harry was quiet. He would lie if he said he didn’t get what she meant. Even their petty quarrels had been so easily forgiven and forgotten, nothing like the passionate fights he and Malfoy had had in Hogwards as kids…

And why the hell did his mind brought Malfoy up in this line of thought?!

“I’m doing this for your sake, too, Harry. You have a chance, an incredible chance for that hot, burning bond we will never have between us. You just have to accept it”, Ginny smiled hesitantly, gripping Harry’s hand encouragingly.

Harry remained silent. He didn’t want to tell her that he had already kind of made that decision. He didn’t want to admit it, even to himself, that he might have chosen wrongly.

He suddenly realized that he had nothing to say to the woman he had been about to propose to. And he was reevaluating his childhood rival, a male, a Veela, as a person he had always been much more passionate with, one way or another, than he had been with his possible fiancé.

* * *

 

“So, I haven’t seen Malfoy lately…”, Ron observed, staring at Harry with his hands crossed over his own desk (which was facing Harry’s, of course, in the office they shared).

Harry groaned noncommittally, refusing to look up from his never-ending paperwork. “Shouldn’t you be more worried that your sister broke up with me?”, he snipped bitterly.

“Given the certain circumstances I believe it was for the best, buddy.”

Harry groaned again, this time more annoyed. “Why does everyone, including my girlfriend, assume that I’d be _thrilled_ with Malfoy’s Veela advances?! For Merlin’s sake, he doesn’t even like me! It’s his Veela genes that have made him go after me in the first place!”

“Don’t be stupid, there’s no such thing as a Veela, who is a separate being from the human. They’re one and the same, Harry. If the Veela likes you, the human likes you.”

“Even so! Last time I checked, I’m not obliged to accept his… love confession? Ha! He hasn’t even made one, properly! It was just _assumed_ to be that way!”

“Is that what the problem is?”, Ron asked, clearly confused.

“No!”, Harry bit out.

Was it?

No. No, it wasn’t.

“Anyway, I haven’t seen him around lately”, Ron said again.

Neither had Harry. Now that he took a minute to think about it, he usually saw glimpses of blond hair in the main lobby in the mornings as he came to work, saw the prat taking his coffee break in the cafeteria, saw him marching through the Ministry halls as if he owned them, the pompous ass! And in those billowing all-important Prosecutor robes, which were oh-so-conveniently dark green…

“Hm? Haven’t seen whom?”, Seamus asked, entering unannounced.

“Malfoy”, Ron answered.

“Oh, yeah, I heard he took a sick leave”, Seamus said, glancing sideways at Harry. Harry had the nasty feeling that his friend barely contained himself from shaking his head in disapproval. At Harry!

“Why did he take a sick leave?”, Harry asked either way.

“Well, obviously, _someone_ rejected him”, Seamus finally did shake his head, clicking his tongue. “Nasty thing, that Mourning. I feel sorry for the lad. After all, he’s been a pretty nice guy after the War, works hard for his good reputation in Law circles…”

What, Seamus too?!

Harry groaned again.

But then something else caught his attention.

“First of all, I haven’t ever officially rejected him…”

“You don’t need to specifically phrase it like that, Harry, it’s enough if you make him feel rejected”, Ron interrupted.

“So it takes my _expressly consent_ to be Mated, but _anything_ could be considered as a rejection!?”, Harry exploded. “That aside, what the hell is Mourning?!”

“Well… the rejected Veela mourns their chance for a perfect life, the way they see it, with their Chosen. You can imagine it as a severe case of depression”, Ron tried to explain.

“What?”, Harry asked, sounding hollowly even to himself. “How… severe?”

“Enough for the Magical Beasts and Beings Department to put a strict restriction of any complicated magic over his wand for the duration of the Mourning. In case he tries to commit…”

Harry was out of the office.

* * *

 

Harry had been surprised to find out that Malfoy didn’t live in the Manor, though he still owned it, even after the severe repercussions of the War. However, instead of the over-opulence of the family home, the Malfoy heir had chosen a simple apartment in… Muggle London. Sure, it was close enough to Diagon Alley, but it was still a Muggle area. Researching the address he needed, Harry had found out that Malfoy had even had to apply for permission to use magic in his own home, next to his Muggle neighbors, under strict rules of discretion.

Harry frowned again, as he lifted a hand to knock on the simple door; Malfoy was still a riddle.

He waited a few seconds and when no answer followed, he knocked again.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming already…”, a dull voice called.

The door opened, revealing a zombie version of what should have been one of the most beautiful and proud creatures in the Wizarding world. Malfoy looked worse than that time when he had been about to die. He was paler again, with a greenish-gray undertone, with black shadows under his blood-shot eyes. His hair had lost all of its shininess. He had obviously lost weight and when he sniffled miserably Harry concluded that he must have a cold as well.

“Potter”, Malfoy rasped, barely above a whisper; he looked like he was fighting to keep his eyes open. “What are you doing here?”

“What’s wrong with you?”, Harry asked, his own voice quiet with shock and horror.

Malfoy considered him with a long, calculating look. “I believe they told you I am not allowed even the simplest of magic, including Glamours. So, yes, Potter, this is how I look like when my Chosen rejects me.”

Harry winced. “Look, I’m sorry. I never meant…”

“Yes, I know you never mean to do any harm. Apology accepted. Anything else?”

“I can still help”, Harry said determinedly, taking a step forward and reaching out.

Malfoy stepped back.

Harry made another step and the blonde stepped right back. Harry was getting annoyed.

“Come on, Malfoy, you know a simple touch would help you…”

“And it’s going to be ten times worse after you’re gone.”

It was Harry’s turn to falter. “What?”

“Don’t you get it, Potter? It may be just another good deed for you, but you know what it really is? It’s giving the Veela inside me false hopes. It’s showing it how it could be like, but will never really be. It’s like throwing a lifebelt to a drowning man only to pull it right back, right under their nose. It’s cruel.”

“That’s not what I…”

“I will not be your charity case, Potter; just another job well done at the end of the day. I cannot be. If you can’t ever see me and consider me as a potential love interest, you better leave right now.”

Harry clenched his jaw.

“You’re asking too much, too fast.”

“Am I?”, the blonde asked quietly.

He was… Harry didn’t really know how to describe him. Both vulnerable and proud, fully aware of the consequences if his demands weren’t fulfilled, and still ready to take on the blow with a head held high. Harry couldn’t read him. Couldn’t trust him. Couldn’t meet his needs. Not now at least. Or ever? Or was the blond riddle in front of him worth a try, a step out of Harry’s comfort zone?

More confused than ever, but unable to provide Malfoy with an answer, Harry left.

* * *

 

“You did what!”

Harry winced at Ron’s loud cry. His friend’s eyes were wide and his face was becoming more and more flushed with frustration. Harry stared.

“Wow, Ron. I wound have never guessed that you of all people would want to play matchmaker for me and Draco Malfoy.”

“Twice, Harry! You rejected a Veela twice! Do you have any idea…”

“How pure and rare nowadays their kind is? I’ve heard that speech and it isn’t gonna be enough to make me settle with someone I barely know.”

“And that’s exactly it, Harry! You don’t even know him and what he’s become after the War and you still just… rejected him.”

Harry sighed, rubbing his eyes. He had long ago gotten rid of the glasses – they were unpractical in his job as an Auror. “And what exactly do you suggest, Ron?”

“Well maybe you should get to know the guy. That’s all.”

Harry sighed again, not really having anything to say against that.


	6. Getting to know him

It was sixth year, all over again.

Harry gripped his Invisibility Cloak tighter around himself while simultaneously making sure he always had the best view of his target. Namely, Draco Malfoy.

Two weeks had passed and the blonde still looked sickly, but taking it like a man. Or, according to Hermione, not like a man, since men took every cold like it was the end of the world. Ron’s application for a sick leave after a single coughing fit confirmed that. Malfoy, however, strode down the street as confidently as ever, as if he wasn’t aware of his reflection in the showcases, his pale grayish skin, lusterless hair and shadows under his eyes. His eyes on the other hand looked dull, even as he forced a smile for the shopkeepers, something that yet again surprised Harry.

Malfoy was polite with everyone he met and talked to, mostly Muggles, and it looked like he was a favorite customer for most of them. And not because he bought a lot (he didn’t, shopping for a single guy) or tipped well (that he did). He was just… nice.

He bought a lot of greens and healthy food. And baked goods, since fresh bread and cookies seemed to be a weakness for him. Harry saw him contemplating a cook book, but then the blonde shook his head and, looking even more depressed, left it back. He finally stopped by a pet shop and Harry was sure he was going to purchase a few mice to feed his pet snake with, but – surprise again, Malfoy just bought some wild bird food. With his both arms full of paper bags and groceries he headed towards his apartment building, looking like he contemplated how to unlock the door. Luckily, he was saved by an elderly woman, who did just that.

“Thank you, Mrs. Lewis”, Draco smiled, looking sincere.

“Of course, my boy”, the woman smiled again, then frowned, looking concerned. “Are you still ill, Draco?”

He shrugged, still keeping the smile, even though it was more strained. “Damn cold is persistent. But I’m not giving in”, he winked, making Mrs. Lewis giggle.

“Sure you won’t! You’re a good, strong man!”

He shook his head. “Have a good day, Mrs. Lewis.”

“You too, my boy, you too. And come by later, I’ll make you some ginger tea.”

“Sure”, he smiled, “I’ll see you later.”

Harry watched as they parted ways, the woman heading down the street and Malfoy going up the few stairs to his apartment. There, he looked around and after making sure no one was watching him, stared at the lock, silently charming it open. He stepped inside his home and was immediately “attacked” by a beautiful barn owl.

“Ow! Hey, watch it! Ah! Not the claws again! Stop, just stop it!”

The bird froze, perched on his shoulder. Malfoy waited a second.

“Hello, Sophie.” He smiled and, after dropping the bags on the counter, reached out to gently caress the bird. It seemed to snuggle closer to him. “Were you lonely? I was out for quite long, huh? Maybe you got used to me being around the whole day? But I’ll have to go back to work soon, you know.”

Sophie hooted sadly. Malfoy chuckled and reached for the bag of bird food.

“Now, now. Look what I got you. Your favorite”, he winked, filling her feeder. Harry noticed it was situated next to a perch, not inside a cage.

Malfoy took the newspaper, unfolding it and scanning thought it while absently pressing a button on his phone. There was a beep and then a mechanic voice said, “You have four new messages”, followed by the first of them. It began with silence. Then…

 _“Um… whenever you’re ready, sir”_ , the first male voice said.

 _“What, now? Like, louder or…?”,_ also a man, sounding truly bewildered.

_“Just… speak like you would speak to him if he were in the room.”_

_“Ugh! Malfoy and his quirks! He’s the last person I’d expect to love Muggle technology!”_

Harry had to agree with the unknown man.

_“So. Here. Malfoy. This is your boss speaking. About Mortimer’s case. Look, Simpson isn’t ready. I know it’s the worst time to ask this of you, but could you give him a hand, please? And, uh, get better soon, ‘cause we need you here. Um. End of transmission?”_

_“No, sir, you just put down the receiver.”_

_“I want that thing with the buttons! Or that… that mobile thing with touch-screech!”_

_“Touch-screen. Um. You’re not ready yet.”_

Malfoy chuckled, shaking his head as the message ended and a new one began after the second beep.

 _“Draco.”_ The voice was female and very authoritative, if soft and gentle. _“This is what I have come to endure in order to contact you. We need to talk. A mother has a right to see her child. Regularly!”_

Malfoy groaned, looking at Sophie for help, but she just hooted, staring at him. Malfoy tsk-ed. “You always take her side. Both of you always conspire against me.”

The third message surprised Harry since it was in a language he recognized as Bulgarian. He quickly recorded it for later translation.

_“_ _Здрасти. В случай, че си забравил как звучи гласът ми, Стефан се обажда. Какво става с теб, Драко? Майка ти звучи разстроена. Слушай... мисля, че знам какъв е случаят. Знаеш, че винаги можеш да говориш с мен, нали? Обади ми се!_ _”_

The fourth was in English again.

 _“Hello, Draco. This is Dr. Snow calling. I’d like to schedule an appointment in any time you’re comfortable with. I believe you’re aware that your condition is very dangerous and…”,_ there was a pause. The man suddenly dropped all pose and continued straightforwardly. _“Draco, as your family doctor, I have literally seen you grow up and, dare I say, I’ve half-raised you myself. Come see me, please. Your mother and I are worried.”_

Malfoy sighed, flinging the newspaper on the table and sinking deeper into his couch. He looked like he was hoping the couch would engulf him and hide him from the world and all the people who worried about him.

* * *

 

Harry went as far as actually taking a break from work in order to spy on Malfoy. And the more he observed, the more surprised he was with what he saw. He found himself seriously interested in the person Malfoy was turning out to be.

Other people seemed to have already understood that and the blonde seemed to be not only well-liked, but actually loved by many people. As Harry watched, he received many more phone calls from worried friends and acquaintances. He ignored all of them and Harry once caught him muttering to Sophie that he wasn’t ready to face all those people yet and answer their questions.

He was obviously in quite bad shape, but he was fighting his emotional instability as best as he could, trying to remain strong. He took walks into the nearest park, sometimes sat on a bench reading a book and drinking coffee. A few girls had tried to engage him in a conversation but he politely refused all of their advances. Harry considered that and tried to see the blonde from another perspective. Sure, he was good looking. Alright, he was fucking handsome, for Merlyn’s sake! From a girl’s perspective he was a damn good catch, Harry supposed – tall, blond, eyes that were usually far more vibrant, well-built (alright, so Harry may have had a few glimpses of Malfoy’s naked upper body as the blonde had undressed to take a shower), obviously smart if his book choices were any indication. Harry frowned, lost in his own thoughts.

* * *

 

Malfoy was about to start cooking when the next message on his phone made both him and Harry freeze.

“Потър е, нали? Винаги е Потър.”

Harry had fumbled around enough with the translation charm to understand the main idea of this message from that Stephan person. His full attention now focused on the blonde.

Draco’s hands were shaking as he was staring off into seemingly nothing. He sniffed and shook his head sharply, his full lips pressed hard together in a thin line. He stared down at the knife in his hand, looking eerily contemplative. Harry felt himself tensing as Draco curled both his fists, one of them around the knife’s handle, staring intensely in his wrist. His left forearm, where the Dark Mark should be, was already wrapped in thick bandages, something Harry had noticed before as the Veela had undressed for a shower. He prepared to drop everything, Invisibility Cloak, hiding spots, defense charms, any moral left, after stalking a Ministry employee for days, maybe even weeks, without any permission, and just rush there and grab the knife from Draco’s hands when the blonde suddenly dropped the knife, took a deep shaky breath and stepped back from the sink. He ran a hand over his face, seeming suddenly thunderstruck in his own kitchen, seeming lost and scared of himself. He took a few more steps back, going into his bedroom and slamming the door shut.

* * *

 

It was night. Harry usually left at night. But not today, he couldn’t. Not after witnessing Draco almost slashing his wrist open.

Draco was curled in a tight ball in the middle of his huge bed, still shivering despite the few thick blankets. In the last few weeks Harry had read enough about Veela to know that the bed was that huge not with the intention of displaying luxury, but with the idea of being comfortable for two people. His heart clenched when he realized that Draco had bought the bed with the desire, the need for a Mate. It clenched harder when he accepted that Draco was now shivering under… five blankets due to the lack of said Mate.

Harry twitched uncomfortably.

In that same moment Draco’s eyes flew open, staring right through him. Harry’s breath caught. Could he…?

But Draco couldn’t see him. He had just woken up from a nightmare, it seemed, since his breathing was labored and he looked scared, still curled in a ball under his five blankets. He closed his eyes, wincing, and pursed his lips again. He looked like was holding off tears and sobs. He flung off the blankets and stood up, determinedly walking into his bathroom and rummaging through his cabinet.

“Damn it… damn it…”, he muttered shakily as he pulled out vial after vial of potions, opening them with trembling fingers and gulping them quickly, wincing at the taste. There were about ten empty vials by the time the shaking subsided. Draco looked up at his reflection in the mirror above the sink. He stared and stared before suddenly smashing his fist into the glass with a broken cry of anger, frustration and helplessness.

Outside in the cold night, Harry shivered, wincing at the sight of blood.

* * *

 

Harry was out of days off and was forced to reluctantly go back to work, distracted as he was at the moment. Ron unsubtly hinted that should Harry recognize a Veela’s approach and the following Courting he’d get more days off in order to be with the Veela and get to know them, and then more for the Bond to settle, should he actually Mate with the Veela.

Ron had no idea that Harry had spent his whole ‘vacation’ stalking Draco and indirectly getting to know him.

‘Indirectly’ being the key word.

He was pointlessly staring at his usual, now even bigger pile of paperwork, when Hermione burst into his office (currently devoid of Ron) looking quite enthusiastic as she asked,

“Do you have any plans for lunch?”

“Um, no?”, Harry asked, confused.

She beamed, took his hand and literally dragged him out of his office.

“I want you to see something”, was all she said.

She dragged him into a courtroom, where a session was currently taking place. Harry frowned, even more confused, as she dragged him into a seat and shushed him, pointing to the blond figure, striding confidently in front of the witness stand, where the defendant was now sweating under Draco Malfoy’s piercing gaze.

“Considering the submitted evidence and witnesses’ confessions, do you deny offering bribes to Ministry officials in order to redeem yourself from previous crimes, ironically worsening your current position?”, Draco asked with a raised pale eyebrow and a slight smirk. Many of the spectators and the jury were smirking and smiling at his way of describing the accused’s predicament.

The defendant, a fat man with small mean eyes, sneered, baring his teeth.

“You are certainly not into position to accuse me of offering bribes, _Malfoy_. Everyone knows your family’s _long_ history of crimes, of which the bribes were only the most innocent.”

The whole room gasped. It suddenly felt like a chill took over the round chamber, the cold seeming to emanate from Draco’s frozen form.

“I’ll obviously have to remind you that I myself have not committed any crimes for which I have not already paid”, Draco said quietly. “I do not claim that I have never done foolish mistakes in my youth, the consequences for some of which still haunt me. But as an adult, I have never crossed the law. And yes, I know what you were trying to hint about my family and its mistakes. I assure you we have paid for those. And the one who’s sinned the most and done the actual crimes, including bribery which is the subject of today’s trial, is in Azkaban. Where criminals are sent. Where you will be sent for your own crimes as well”, he concluded, just as quietly; only the slight smirk was now back on his face, along with a dangerous determined glint in his silver eyes.

The judge hit her gavel repeatedly, calling for order before declaring that the jury had half an hour to announce their decision. Draco sagged into his chair, looking minutes from passing out with exhaustion. A few people surrounded him, looking worried. Harry enhanced his hearing and listened to their conversation ignoring Hermione’s frown.

“I knew it was too risky. I shouldn’t have called you!”, one of the men said and Harry recognized the voice as Draco’s boss’. “Simpson, go fetch him something!”

Draco’s younger and nervous colleague nodded and stood up, but the blonde grabbed his hand and shook his head. “It’s okay”, he said. “Just some water is fine”, he added, charming himself a goblet full of the liquid. He gulped it down and tried to force a smile on his face. For Harry, who’d gotten used to seeing that effort, it was painful to have to see it yet again.

“It’s okay, guys, really. Once this case is closed I’ll go back and finish my… ”, he frowned, suddenly looking ashamed.

“Vacation”, Simpson quickly supplied.

“There is nothing wrong or shameful in…”, Draco’s boss began.

“Let’s just focus on the case, shall we?”, Draco quickly cut in.

Harry felt like the worst kind of scum for having done this to Draco, without even really knowing him. He’d always hated prejudices. And now he had been the one prejudiced.

They spent the rest of the break talking in law terms Harry understood almost nothing about. Then the jury was back, announcing the defendant guilty and sentencing him to a short, but effective time in Azkaban. Draco smiled triumphantly, even though it was obvious that the victory had taken its toll on him. His colleagues patted him on the back and offered to go celebrate the victory, but the blonde politely declined, saying he needed a few moments to collect his notes and they should go ahead.

It was exactly what Harry needed. When he turned around to tell Hermione that she should go without him as well, she had already left. Harry smiled to himself. Maybe she’d have also done well in Slytherin, cunning as she was.

He jogged down the few steps to the ground and stood just a few steps behind Draco.

“Hey”, he said simply.

The blonde turned, surprised. “Potter. What are you doing here?”

“Well I was wondering… if you’re free Saturday morning… for… coffee?”, Harry asked hesitantly. Given their history and more than awkward beginning now as adults, it was normal to be hesitant.

“Mornings are hard for me recently”, Draco admitted, still looking confused.

“Lunch then”, Harry insisted.

“I don’t usually…”

“Come on, Malfoy, I’m trying here”, Harry muttered.

“To do what?”, the blonde asked, perturbed.

“To ask you on a date, obviously.”

“Obviously”, Draco shook his head. “I told you, if you aren’t interested in something long-term…”

“I am now.”

Draco’s frown deepened. “Why now?”, he asked suspiciously. “What changed?”

Harry made up his mind. “You can look up.”

Draco got him without any more words. Only seconds later Harry felt Draco’s mind reaching out and actually seeking permission. Harry gave in, letting Draco see the days he’d spent watching him. The blonde blushed, ashamed from some of the scenes, looked rightfully angered for a moment or two and then he just stared at Harry.

“I could sue you for that”, he stated calmly.

“I know”, Harry said.

“And I’ll win.”

“I know.”

“It’s a terrible disrespect of private space and Veela are known to cherish their privacy.”

“I know.”

“There’s a lot you seem to know lately”, Draco noted, seeming to fight down a smile.

“And yet, not enough. I’d like to find out more. And I’d like it if you were the one to let me know it.”

Draco smiled slowly. “Saturday, 1 p.m. You know where I live. And I don’t eat…”

“Meat. I know”, Harry grinned.

Draco snorted, shaking his head. “Of course you do. Well… see you on Saturday, Potter.”

“Yeah… see you”, Harry smiled, watching the blonde walk out confidently.

It looked like he had a date to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand this is why this fic means so much for me. Stephan's message isn't translated. It is written in my mother language :) Veela lore is basically the fairy tails I grew up with :)  
> Here's what Stephan says: 1. "Hey. It case you have forgotten how my voice sounds, this is Stephan. What's happening with you, Draco? Your mother sounds upset. Listen... I think I know what it is. You know you can always talk to me, right? Call me!"  
> 2\. "It's Potter, isn't it? It's always Potter."


	7. Dating Draco Malfoy

Harry cleared his throat, took a deep breath, focused… and knocked on the door.

Merlyn, he was nervous. He didn’t remember ever being this nervous about a date. Sure, most of his dates were with Ginny, and he’d known her for years, but he’d known Draco for the same amount of time. And yet it seemed he didn’t know him at all, based on what he’d seen the last few… days? Weeks?

Draco opened the door, smiling at him. It wasn’t the fake smile Harry had seen so many times. It wasn’t quite a beam, but it was warm and real.

“Hello”, Draco said simply.

“Hi”, Harry answered, managing not to stutter or choke on that tiny greeting.

The blonde eyed Harry up and down and nodded thoughtfully.

“Someone has actually put an effort today. Well done, Potter.”

Harry blushed. He’d driven Hermione up the wall with all the times he had changed outfits (ones that actually fit him now and complimented his Auror trained body). He’d finally settled on some classic dark blue jeans and a dark green Henley.

“That’s a nice color”, Draco noted, nodding towards the shirt as he was walking into the flat to grab his keys. Harry noticed that the blonde himself wore jeans – a faded pale blue ones, and a simple white button-down.  Even as he had lost weight, it was visible that he usually took good care of his own body.

Harry shook his head and tried to concentrate again.

“Uh, thanks. I’d usually guess that you like it because it’s Slytherin green or something like that, but considering my recent… research, that would probably be a wrong assumption.”

Draco smiled again; and Harry might be wrong but there was something truly flirtatious when the blonde answered,

“I like it because it accents your eyes.”

Harry knew he was blushing again, if slightly, so he cleared his throat and offered,

“Shall we go?”

Draco nodded, locking the door.

* * *

 

“Like I said. Someone has definitely put an effort.”

It was Harry’s turn to smile contently. Draco looked impressed with his choice for their date – “Lotus”, a vegetarian restaurant on Diagon Alley that had just opened up, immediately gathering the attention of many wizards, both vegetarians and non-vegetarians. It was extremely difficult to book a table. But, well, there were some perks of being Harry Potter.

“You didn’t have to, you know.”

Harry looked up from the menu, only to see Draco’s thoughtful grey eyes, staring at him, as if trying to figure him out.

“Didn’t have to?”, Harry asked.

“To go through all the trouble of booking a table here”, Draco explained.

“You’re a vegetarian”, Harry stated.

“But you’re not. I could have ordered a vegetarian meal everywhere, but you can’t order a steak here.”

“How did you know I’m not a vegetarian?”, Harry smirked.

Draco rolled his eyes.

“I’ve seen you devouring nearly a whole turkey in the Auror’s refreshment room.”

Harry winced. That had been after a long, nerve-wrecking mission. The whole team had acted like wild beasts once they’d gotten back.

“Okay”, Harry amended. “Maybe I wanted to impress you”, he admitted.

Draco narrowed his eyes. “I Chose you, Potter. There is no need to impress me further.”

“…and maybe I felt guilty. For… not giving you, this… us, a chance at first. I wish I could repair that.”

Draco was silent for a long while.

“That won’t happen with just a lunch date in a good restaurant. But. It’s a nice start”, he smiled.

Harry smiled back.

* * *

 

Harry had been worried they’d have nothing to talk about.

He’d been wrong once again.

Draco was interesting and/because he was interested in many things, himself. He read a lot, both Wizard and Muggle literature. He enjoyed cooking but still felt a little insecure in his own abilities in the kitchen. He could talk about sport: he played quidditch and tennis, was interested in soccer and had tried several more extreme Muggle activities like paragliding, kayaking and mountain climbing. He wasn’t just bragging too – he engaged Harry in the conversation, asked and offered his own opinion when appropriate, looked genuinely interested in Harry’s own stories.

What started out as a lunch date turned into afternoon coffee and then a walk back to Draco’s apartment at dusk.

“I had a great time”, Harry said.

“Me too”, Draco smiled, a lot more softly.

“Can we do this again?”, Harry asked.

Draco looked a little hesitant. Like he very much wanted to repeat the experience, but he was also a little wary, a little scared of rejection again. He finally smiled and nodded.

“I’d love to.”

Harry smiled back. “Good night, Draco.”

“Good night, Harry.”

* * *

 

“Soooo. Second date, huh?”, Ron leered.

“Do shut up, please”, Harry tried, knowing it was in vain.

“Come on, buddy! Not everyone has the chance to date…”

“A Veela? That’s all he is to you.”

“…And what is he to _you_?”

Harry considered that.

“He’s... interesting. A good interlocutor. He’s smart, but he’s not an arrogant ass. He’s actually… nice.”

“Oh?”, Ron raised an eyebrow, smirking. Harry scowled.

“Shut up, Ron.”

* * *

 

They went to a tennis game on their second date. Harry considered that as a mistake. Draco was so absorbed into the game that he could barely (but very responsibly) tell Harry the main rules. He declared that both players were famous, even though Harry had no idea who they were.

“The younger one is Dimitrov. He’s quite good.”

“Are you cheering for him?”, Harry asked.

“Well, Federer is Federer, you know…” (Harry didn’t), “but, yeah, I’d like it if Dimitrov won.”

“What is it with you and Bulgarians?”

Draco gave him a side glance. “Meaning?”

“Well, you seem to have at least one pretty close friend, who is a Bulgarian…”

“You mean Stephan.”

It wasn’t a question, but Harry still muttered a weak “yes”, aware that Draco was remembering being stalked by the Auror. The blonde was quiet for a moment.

“Veela’s roots are Bulgarian, you know. Our ancestors are Bulgarian magical female beings, known as вили, самовили, самодиви...”

“Switch back to English, please.”

Draco smirked.

 “So you speak Bulgarian fluently, I assume?”, Harry asked.

Draco shrugged modestly. “Да.”

Harry wanted to hear more than that, one day.

* * *

 

Their third date was a total win.

“Come oooon!”, Draco cheered, all but jumping up and down on his seat.

They were observing a quidditch game this time. And Draco behaved totally different compared to him watching a tennis game. While he’d been quietly focused while watching the tennis game, he was now cheering loudly and energetically. Harry had read about Veela emotions and their instability but was only now beginning to understand how unpredictable Draco was.

Draco’s team, The Falmouth Falcons, scored at the same time as their Seeker caught the Snitch.

“YES! FUCKING YES!”, the blonde screamed, jumping from his seat and pumping a fist in the air victoriously before he grabbed Harry’s face and kissed him.

It was short and chaste, no tongues, no technique, with more force than anything else, but Harry was stunned and after a second, as he pulled back, so was Draco. Those grey eyes, still sparkling with joy from the victory, widened in shock.

“Oh! Um… I mean…”, he stammered, his face turning a charming pale pink.

Harry smirked and leaned in for another kiss, just as short and chaste as the first one, but a lot sweeter. 

* * *

 

 

Harry knocked on the door to Draco’s office, earning a dull “come in”. He stepped in and held back a wince at the sight he knew all too well: piled paperwork and a tired looking young man, trying to fight the bureaucracy. Draco looked up with drooping eyes. He didn’t even try to smile.

“Hey”, he said weakly.

“Hey, yourself”, Harry smiled, depositing a paper cup of coffee on the desk, close to the blonde. Draco eyed it suspiciously, taking off the lid and taking a gulp. He sighed contently, with a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“How did you know how I drink my coffee?”, he asked.

“Simpson”, Harry said simply. Draco’s not-exactly-smile widened a bit.

“The traitor.”

“Your colleagues like you. They only want the best for you”, Harry pointed out.  

 “And that’s you?”, Draco teased.

“Mmm”, Harry hummed noncommittally, moving behind Draco and absently rubbing his stiff shoulders.

The blonde allowed that for a while, but when he spoke his voice was quiet and wary again.

“That’s dangerous.”

“A shoulder massage?”

Draco nodded.

Harry’s movements faltered a bit. He took a deep breath.

“Well. We’ve been on three dates. You kissed me. I’d consider that going steady.”

Draco froze all over. It was a tense moment before the blonde muttered,

“You kissed me too.”

Harry smiled faintly. “Mhm.”

“Is this… are we serious?”

Harry took another deep breath, before stepping around the desk and sitting down opposite from Draco.

“There’s something I realized when Ginny broke up with me”, he started. “I’ve always been drawn to you, one way or another. And now as I got to know you a little bit more, I find you more and more interesting.”

“Interesting isn’t enough for a real relationship, Harry”, Draco pointed out.

“I know. I know, but we just started. We’re getting there.”

“Are we? There’s a lot more than nice talks in a romantic relationship. And as far as I know, you’ve only ever been with one woman. Do you think you could be sexually attracted to me?”

Harry had considered that. Even now he remembered ogling Draco as he had been undressing, unaware that he was being watched. So, he hadn’t gotten instantly hard. But he couldn’t deny that he liked what he saw. Was that only wistful thinking when faced with the opportunity of a “forever”, a lover so invested in their relationship that Harry had never experienced anything like that, ever before? He’d thought about that. He’d thought about that a lot.

“I’m not gonna lie to you”, Harry said. “There are a lot of things that are going to freak me out at first. It’s not gonna be easy. _I’m_ not gonna be easy. I’m messy and quick to act, suspicious to the point of paranoia. My job is important to me and it is dangerous and I will not quit it. We’ve had more than just one rocky beginning. But I’ve finally gotten to know you a little better now. And I like the person you’ve become. I think I might have started to fall for that person. And I’d like to give this a try.”

Draco smiled tiredly. “ _I’m_ not gonna be easy either. I’m not ready to be hurt again, Harry. I’m not sure I could take it. We’re talking about trust issues that are going to frustrate you. A lot. So if we do this, if we want to make this work, the first few months are going to be a constant effort. On both sides.”

Harry nodded. “I’m ready”, he said determinedly.

Draco sighed. But he was smiling when he said,

“We’re gonna need help.”

 


	8. Veela 101

So. This was the infamous Dr. Snow.

He was a middle aged man with a kind expression and calm brown eyes. He seemed just as fascinated with him as Harry was with the doctor’s persona; but somehow Harry felt Dr. Snow’s interest in him had nothing to do with his fame and popularity as the Boy Who Lived. That suspicion was confirmed with the doctor’s next words.

“I shouldn’t be surprised that Draco has Chosen you as a potential Mate, should you accept him. He has always liked a good challenge.”

Harry frowned, tensing. He didn’t get a chance to say anything though, as Snow quickly added,

“Don’t get me wrong though! He has not Chosen you for the challenge itself and as a Chosen and maybe someday even a Mate, you will never be _just_ a challenge for him. You will never be _just_ anything to him”, Snow smiled. “Then again, wooing and winning one’s Mate is always the biggest challenge in a Veela’s life”, he winked.

Harry relaxed a little, but not fully. There was still something that kept bugging him.

“I’d like it if we could be completely open with each other, Mr. Potter. So I’d be very glad if you decided to share with me whatever is on you mind. You have my word that anything you say within those four walls will remain here. I can take the Vow, if you’d feel more comfortable.”

Harry shook his head quickly, forcing a small smile.

“That won’t be necessary. Draco trusts you. And since I’m learning to trust him, that should be enough for me.”

Snow’s smile became warmer. “I’m glad that’s the way you see things, Mr. Potter.”

“Harry. If we’re going to be as open with each other, you might as well call me Harry.”

“Harry then. I’m Alexander. But you may call me Alex.”

“Alex. Why am I here alone? I thought couple counseling was to be held when both people in said couple are present.”

“Well, Harry. We’re going to be painfully honest during those first few séances. Draco wanted you to feel free to ask questions without fearing what reaction they may cause.”

“That’s… thoughtful.”

“That’s what he is. Especially now, towards you. That’s one of the first things you need to be aware of and get used to: the Veela’s constant attention for their Mate or Chosen. You’re his main focus now.”

“That sounds intense.”

“It is. You know that Veela Mate for life. Everything is intense with them, everything is important. They are into this relationship 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year, forever. And so are you.”

Harry fidgeted. “I’d lie if I say that doesn’t scare me a bit.”

Alex smiled. “I’d be worried if you took it lightly.”

* * *

 

Draco was cooking when Harry entered his flat; he had knocked and was met with a distant “come in!” before he had stepped in.

“You should have some wards”, he reprimanded worriedly, his Auror instincts having kicked in.

“I do”, Draco said, moving freely around his kitchen. “They’re tuned to let you in.”

Harry felt something warm in his chest, but refused to acknowledge it yet. Draco had rolled the sleeves of his shirt and his forearms were visible. Harry noted, not for the first time, how there was a thick bandage over the place where Draco’s Dark Mark should be and frowned, but didn’t press the blonde for answers.

He also noticed that the blonde had opened and was looking up in the cook book he had contemplated when Harry had been stalking him. An idea formed in his mind, but he told himself to ask Dr. Snow the next time he saw him.

“So how did it go?”, Draco asked as if having read his mind.

“It was… educational”, Harry said. “We have homework.”

Draco looked up from his book, curious. Harry smirked.

“We need to get used to each other’s presence… and touch.”

The wooden ladle in Draco’s hand snapped in two pieces, snapping Draco’s (and Harry’s) attention back to it.

“Merlyn!”, Harry cursed, jumping from his seat on the couch and examining Draco’s bloodied hand, taking off the splinters and muttering a healing spell.

“I meant casual touches, like this”, Harry said quietly.

“I know”, Draco whispered back.

“…Come here for a minute”, Harry said, spurred by the moment, dragging Draco towards the couch.

“I’m cooking…”, Draco tried weakly.

Harry threw a Stasis charm over his shoulder and sat Draco down, sitting next to him, keeping a strong hold on his recently healed hand. They sat together like that, in silence, until Draco’s head was slowly and hesitantly lowered on Harry’s shoulder and Harry’s thumb rubbed soothingly at the back of Draco’s hand.

* * *

 

“So how about dinner on Sunday?”, Harry asked.

“Sure, sounds fine”, Draco agreed.

They were taking a walk in the small park near the Ministry… holding hands. By now everyone knew that Draco Malfoy was a Veela and had Chosen Harry Potter so they were officially dating now. Harry had had some reservations about the public handholding at first, thinking it would look too sappy, but then Seamus had nosily informed him that a Veela’s tactile needs were public knowledge too, so no one would find it weird (in fact, if people discussed it at all, they seemed to find it ‘cute’, ‘adorable’ and so on, quoting old Ministry ladies). In reality, the handholding didn’t change who they were and so they didn’t look sappy, ‘too gay’, feminine or whatever Harry’s mind had tried to scare him with; they looked just as masculine together as they did separately.

“This is my address”, Harry said, pulling out a note and giving it to Draco. “You can Apparate, Floo or, you know, just walk in through the front door. Do you eat lasagna?”

Draco tripped and Harry reached out to steady him.

“You mean… dinner at you place? And you’re cooking?”, the blonde asked, wide-eyed.

“Yep”, Harry grinned as Draco beamed at him. “Are you gonna trip or break something every time I offer something like that? So much for Veela gracefulness!”

Draco’s smile vanished and he narrowed his eyes dangerously.

He pouted all the way back to his office. But he didn’t let go of Harry’s hand.

* * *

 

Things went a little too far on Sunday.

It all started great. Harry made lasagna. Draco brought wine. Harry had lit a few candles and they kept on throwing a faint, mystic light as the couple moved on the couch after dinner to talk about this and that, funny stories from work and from their everyday life, laughing and feeling completely at ease.

Until Harry had spilled wine on Draco’s shirt while laughing too hard. He stared at the deep red spot on the pristine white shirt, thinking that now Draco would surely get mad, but all the blonde did was snort and comment,

“So much for Auror reflexes…”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head, admitting that he’d had it coming. He summoned a washcloth and tried to remove the stain, only later remembering that he could actually just charm it away much more easily. Draco didn’t comment on that fact though, didn’t offer any snide remarks, just sat there, still, save for the minor tremors that seemed to run up his body.

“Um… Sorry about that, I’ll…”, Harry began, but didn’t have a chance to finish his thought as Draco leaned in and kissed him.

It had nothing to do with their kisses so far. This one was not sweet and chaste, just a simple peck on the lips; this one was deep, sensual, extremely erotic. It made Harry’s limbs suddenly very heavy and his head very light and his heart seemed to beat a thousand beats in a second and he was falling, spinning, going deep, deeper, and yearning for even more deeper, closer…

His eyes snapped open (when had he closed them?!) and he stared down (down?! When had he pushed Draco down on the couch!?) at the blonde, both of them panting harshly. There was a faint blush on Draco’s pale skin and his now puffy lips were just about to stretch in a slow smile when Harry’s mouth had to go and ruin it.

“What did you just do?”, Harry asked quietly, his voice still rough and shaky.

Draco frowned. “I kissed you. You kissed back.”

“Did you use the Allure?”

Draco’s whole self closed up. “What?”, he asked in a cold, detached tone.

“That was… it wasn’t just a kiss, I’ve kissed and been kissed before and that. Was not. Just. A kiss!” It couldn’t possibly be. There was… something there. “Did you use some kind of Veela influence on me?”

Draco pulled back, harshly, trashing on the couch, trying to stand up. When the Auror on top of him didn’t bulge, he growled and snarled viciously,

“Move, Potter.”

A small warning light in Harry’s brain lit up and said that if Draco used his surname, things were bad. Still, he didn’t let go. Not yet.

“Tell me the truth, Draco”, he insisted, his Auror voice making the blonde flinch.

Sharp, furious silver eyes looked up and met Harry’s own green orbs.

“What you felt was the wine… and a bond, still too young, still not settled. Do you feel it now?”

“…No”, Harry frowned.

“Because you just broke it at its most fragile state”, Draco said quietly. “Now move. The fuck. Off me, Potter.”

Dumbstruck, Harry finally sat back up. The moment Draco stood up and got a hold of his wand, he was gone.

* * *

 

“Oh, Harry….”, Alex sighed, shaking his head disappointedly.

Harry wanted to wince. Instead he kept on staring defiantly at Draco’s doctor and Veela expert.

“Yes, I know I screwed up. I know it _now_. Just… tell me how bad.”

“Bad”, Alex said immediately. “Harry. Western-European Veela only use the Allure, extremely rarely, _on other people – not on family and not on their beloved_. And even then, those are mostly the _unmated_ Veela. One who is Mated or even courting a Chosen would never do this to them. Between Veela, it is considered the lowest of acts against a loved one. There have been recorded only a few such cases, when very desperate Veela had tried that with Mates, who wished to leave them, cheated on them or mistreated the Veela. Even then, the Veela were judged very severely by their own kind. What you said to him… was a great offense.”

“Damn it…”

“Harry, there seems to be a big misunderstanding. You seem to think Veela are the dominating part of a relationship, all but forcing their will onto their Mate via their allure or through the Bond?”

“Well. I guess I… yeah, maybe. Kinda…”

Alex sighed. “Harry. It’s the exact opposite.”

Harry frowned, feeling his throat go a little dry. “What?”

Dr. Snow nodded. “It’s the Mate who can manipulate a Veela however they please. A Veela is totally dependent on them. Should they choose to, the Mate can literally crush their Veela.”

“No…”, Harry rasped.

Alex sighed again. “I’m not saying you would do it. I’m just letting you know that you actually possess such power over Draco and therefore you must be aware of it. And very careful with it and the knowledge of it.”

* * *

 

Harry knocked on the door to Draco’s office and after a moment stepped in, even though no answer was given. Draco was fighting with yet another pile of paperwork. He didn’t look up and he didn’t acknowledge Harry in any way.

“I’m sorry”, Harry said.

“You should be”, Draco growled quietly.

“I know I screwed up…”

“Again.”

“Draco, I had no idea what I was actually implying. I swear to you. Alex just told me yesterday.”

Draco finally looked up at him.

“I know you didn’t know what it meant for me. You just don’t trust me.”

“It’s hard for me to trust anyone, you know that.”

“It’s hard for me, too”, Draco noted.

Harry wanted to kick himself for his stupid reactions.

“Will it always be like this?”, the blonde asked in a small, nearly broken voice.

 “No. No, it won’t always be like that. In the beginning - yes, definitely. Maybe for a while. But I believe we’ll get better.”

“Do you really? Believe? In us?”, Draco looked like he was fighting to stay strong and not fall apart.

“I do”, Harry said, only then realizing that he did, indeed, believe and want this with his whole heart.

Draco just nodded. And because he felt that he was now allowed to, because he felt that it was the right thing to do in this moment, Harry went to him and dragged him up into a hug.

And if they stood there for a while, no one needed to know it.

* * *

 

“Milk Chocolate Chip Cookies, Dark Chocolate Chip Cookies, White Chocolate Chip Cookies, Raspberry Jam Cookies, Strawberry Jam Cookies, Apple and Cinnamon Cookies…”

“Um, Harry. What are you doing?”, Ron interjected nervously next to him.

Harry winced a little. There was only one word for it.

“Groveling. Yeah, could you pack them in a fancy bag and uh, put a ribbon on it but one that isn’t, you know, pink or something; they’re for a guy. And, you know what? Fuck that, he’s masculine and confident about that, you can put whatever ribbon you choose. Can I have a greeting card or something? Yeah, thanks…”, Harry bit on his quill, thinking about what to write, while Ron and the shop clerk smirked, amused.

* * *

 

Draco marched angrily towards his office, wishing he could summon his talons and just _tear_ into something. Maybe someone. Whatever, he wasn’t picky.

His case wasn’t going the way he wanted it to. It wasn’t a lost cause, it never was for him, and he was known to almost always win his cases. But this one was long and drawn out and the defendant’s lawyer was good, the sneaky bastard, always coming up with something or another, and Draco had to fight down every new feint. It made Draco tired and twitchy, thus his need to rip something.

Or attack something sweet.

Draco’s pace slowed. That was a fine idea. Sweets did make him feel better, lighter; definitely put him in a better mood. He could drop by the cafeteria. Their sweets weren’t of the quality of the bakery next to his flat, but they’d do for now.

But he was already closer to his office. And he had work to do. Maybe he’d send someone to fetch him a brownie. His colleagues loved him, after all, according to Harry.

He stepped into his office and his Veela senses picked up on a few things at the same time: Harry’s scent lingered in the room, the already divine aroma mixed with other delicious smells, and there was a large basket of cookies on his desk.

Smiling, Draco reached for the attached note.

_“Sorry for being an insensitive bastard and a bad boyfriend. I’m making you an apology-dinner – tonight, 7 p.m., my place._

_P.S. This is not the desert for the dinner, so eat up the cookies and let the poor lawyers live._

_H.”_

Draco salivated just from the look of the cookies. But he couldn’t eat them for at least half an hour after he read the note – he was grinning too hard.

* * *

 

“I can’t believe we’ve already been on a few dates and I’m just about to ask you that, but why a prosecutor?”, Harry asked.

Draco smiled. “Well. Because it wasn’t easy.”

Harry smiled back. “Alex did mention that you valued a good challenge; although I get that it’s more a you-thing than a Veela-thing?” Draco snorted a laugh, nodding. “But, just because of that?”, Harry pressed.

Draco shrugged. “I was at a crossroads, Harry. The war was over, my father – in jail, all of my beliefs were proving to be wrong. I was confused; maybe even a little scared. I needed a challenge. A goal.”

“So you chose law.”

Draco nodded. “Maybe I was influenced during the trials. There were lawyers who still actually fought for their client’s cause, believed in it. There were some among them who could make a difference between an adult committing a crime, fully understanding what they’re doing, and a child, following their parent’s path. So, kind of inspired by that, I went to study in Wales’ Wizarding Law School. Unlike Muggle law school – did you know they have to study for six years in some places? – the Wizarding law school only teaches you the basics and then you learn while practicing, you read and study for each new case.”

“So you were a lawyer for a while?”

“Yes.”

“And then you aimed higher”, Harry smirked.

Draco smiled. “It was unheard of. One bearing the Mark, even if he was proven innocent at the trials, now fighting criminals? Scandalous! There were exams, morality tests, all under utmost scrutiny and vicious staring. And then, even as I passed, it took a lot more effort to make a name for myself, to be where I am now. You see how my boss likes me now, but he used to hate me, you know?”, Draco smirked, nodding as he remembered. “Rich Malfoy brat decides to become a prosecutor out of boredom, and probably assisted by bribes. He even said that once. I fucking lost it – yelled my throat sore, screaming all kinds of swears in his face. I thought he was going to fire me. But he didn’t. He kept a close eye on me from then on, watched me coming in first in the morning and leaving last, reading literally until collapsing – I’m not proud of that, but it’s a fact. So, little by little he got to know me, know my work, and he began to trust me.”

“And so did the others…”

“Yes. It took some time, but I’m finally content now.”

“And how about your sudden interest in Muggles?”, Harry asked, truly intrigued.

“It’s very simple actually. At some point while I was aiming for the prosecutor title I realized that people despised me without really knowing me, just because of my name or what other people said about me. And I realized that I was the same with Muggles – I knew nothing about them, but I was raised to hate them by default, told by other people, my father and other ancestors, that they were lowly and the epitome of everything bad. So I made an effort. Read up some more. Ventured into Muggle London, and then farther. Muggles turned out to be so… interesting.”

“Like you”, Harry blurted.

It made Draco smile slowly, genuinely. “Thank you.”

“And how about…”, Harry began, but Draco interrupted him.

“Harry, I’m flattered that you seem really interested in me and so… invested in these dates and getting to know each other, but I feel like I know what’s really happening here and I owe you an apology.”

“…huh?”, was Harry’s eloquent answer. Draco sighed.

“It’s like you want to know and memorize everything about me at once, making sure you won’t make another mistake.”

“Well, I…”

“You will, Harry. And so would I. I’d like to apologize for acting so offended. My Veela side often gets the better of me. But getting to really know each other – it takes time.”

“I have time”, Harry said.

“Good”, Draco smiled.

* * *

 

“There’s one thing I don’t get”, Draco said. “You said it was hard for you to trust _anyone_. Not just _me_ in particular.”

“Yeah”, Harry frowned a little, not really getting where this was going.

“I just don’t get how you seem hesitant around me for every other reason – my being a male, an emotional Veela, working something you aren’t really familiar with – everything else other than my past mistakes. And I’ve made many.”

“Who hasn’t?”, Harry smiled bitterly. “If I’d taken your hand when you offered friendship…”

“If I hadn’t been a pompous ass, offending Weasley, only repeating my father’s words without really knowing those people at all…”

“If I’d accepted being sorted in Slytherin…”

“You were going to be sorted in Slytherin!?”

Harry grinned. “Yeah, the Hat was debating whether to put me there, but I’d just heard that it used to be Voldemort’s house. So I begged the Hat not to put me there.”

Draco shook his head, smiling slightly. “You continue to amaze me. But that doesn’t answer my question. How could you just… forget all the bad blood between us? How come you’ve never brought up my mistakes? I wasn’t just a brat. I almost…”

“But you didn’t. I saw you lowering your wand, back there at the Tower.”

Draco’s breath hitched. “You saw…?”, he whispered.

Harry nodded. “You wouldn’t have done that. You were just so scared and confused. You wanted to protect your family…”

“That’s what my father said too”, Draco rasped with a cold, detached voice. “That anything he’d done was because he just wanted to protect his family.”

Harry shook his head. “But I never saw in his eyes what I saw in yours.  What I saw in that bathroom; at the Tower; in the courtroom; I haven’t forgotten. I just finally understood. And yeah, I used to blame you for everything when we were kids, but not… not after everything I saw. Because I saw your soul, Draco Malfoy. And you’re not like your father.”

Draco let out a deep sigh, a half sob held within it. Harry said nothing more. He just took Draco in his arms and held him.

* * *

 

“If we’d had dinner last night, do you think I should call him, or would that be considered as pestering?”, Harry asked.

Ron shook his head. “I’m not the one you should ask for dating advice, man. The only woman I want has invented new ways to avoid me.”

Harry opened his mouth to say something, anything to try and cheer Ron up, but just then the door opened and Draco marched in, looking frustrated. Harry’s brow furrowed in concern and he tried to speak again, this time to ask the blonde what was wrong, but Draco dropped the box he was holding onto his desk, staring at it as if it had offended him. He put his hands on his hips, still staring at the box and took a deep breath.

“We will not talk, joke or laugh about this. This is beyond my rationality. It’s… my Veela genes are… You know what? Never mind. Here are scones. You should eat those scones, because I made them at 5 a.m. Weasley, you may try them too, as long as you don’t eat them all.” Draco nodded, more to himself and the cookies rather than the two other men in the room, and strode towards the door. “Have a nice day Harry, Weasley.”

And just like that, in a storm of formal green prosecutor robes, the blonde was gone.

“Um”, Ron dared. “What was that?”

Harry shook his head. He had no idea.

* * *

 

“Is cooking a Veela thing?”, Harry asked.

Alex raised a brow at his choice of words, but smiled and answered anyway.

“Veela have an intense need to provide for their Mates. This includes the art of cooking, yes. Why do you ask? Has Draco started to cook more?”

Harry nodded. “At first I thought it was just something he liked to do. I mean, I’ve seen him contemplating cook books and then I’ve seen him actually cook… But yesterday he stormed into my office, depositing a box of scones on my desk, saying he made them at 5 a.m. Like, in the morning. He said it was beyond him. It just got me curious.”

Alex smiled. “It’s common, especially in a new relationship. The Veela in Draco tries to impress you, to demonstrate what a good and caring partner in life he could be. He gets these urges, to do things that might make you more content. Even if those urges manifest in 5 a.m. – that really is beyond his control.”

Harry sighed. “Okay. I get that. What else do I need to know about Veela urges?”

“Hm. There’s one that might frustrate you, seeing as you are usually the one, whose job is to protect people, but… This is a strong need for a Veela. They would do anything to keep their Mate safe. Anything. ‘Dying for you’ is not just a phrase for them.”

“I honestly don’t see how that’d work for us. We’ll what, try to push each other out of harm’s way?”

Alex smiled sympathetically. Harry sighed.

“What else?”

 “Well. He’d want… no, need – to show you off. Brag with you.”

“What!”, Harry snapped.

“Not brag with your fame, the scar or your past victories”, Alex clarified as if he had just read Harry’s mind. “He’d want to brag with _you_. He’d want to show you for your shiny hair, your clear forest green eyes, your perfect body…”

“My hair is not shiny and my body is not perfect!”, Harry blushed.

Alex laughed. “In his eyes, it is. For him you really are perfect. It’s not that he shows condescension, he really, literally can’t see your flaws.” Snow smiled warmly. “And it’s not just your beauty he’d want to brag with. He’d want to show everyone how smart you are, how funny and intelligent his Mate is. He’d want everyone to see that. But he’ll make it more than clear that all that… is his.”

Harry looked up, eyes widened. Alex nodded. “Veela are extremely possessive, Harry. Prepare for that and do never blame him – it’s in his nature, he cannot change it and he’ll suffer if you want him to.”

* * *

 

“So”, Harry began casually. “Veela are said to be very possessive.”

“Mm”, Draco hummed, signing some papers with flourish.

“Like, ‘don’t touch this, it’s mine’.”

“Mm.”

“That includes people, not just objects.”

“Mm.”

“I’m not okay with being treated like an object!”

“Mm.”

“Are you even listening to me?!”

“Yep. All the time, every word. I cannot not listen to you.”

“And you will not make me wear a… collar or something?”

“Don’t be silly”, Draco huffed, flipping a new folder open.

Harry sighed, relaxed.

“As long as you’re properly Marked and scented, that’s quite enough”, Draco added.

Harry groaned.


	9. Restless

The first time he noticed it, Harry thought nothing of it. It was normal for Draco to be nervous in his line of work. Maybe it was a tough case, maybe he was just tired.

The second time Harry had witnessed the blonde lose his cool and yell to a subordinate, he’d let it go.

After the third time Draco exploded for no good reason though, Harry started paying more attention.

Draco looked tired, twitchy, always on edge. He looked like he didn’t get enough sleep, and maybe not enough food as well, since he looked paler and thinner.

The only times Draco ever looked calm and content were the times he spent close to Harry or at least in Harry’s presence. The second the Auror had to leave Draco went back to looking gloomy, exhausted, sad and/or irate. Yes, he managed all that.

The answer seemed pretty obvious.

“Yes. He seems to suffer from what we call Separation Anxiety”, Alex confirmed calmly.

“What separation!? We see each other almost every day!”

“Well, he needs more than ‘ _almost’_ and more than a few minutes a day.”

“And why hasn’t he said anything?!”, _“again”_ was on the tip of Harry’s tongue as he became more and more annoyed.

“Ah, that’s more complicated. First, he’s very proud and never wants to admit when he needs help or when he feels less than excellent. Then, on some level, from the beginning of your relationship, and even before that, he’s always prepared for rejection. That was his main motive to not tell you that he’d had the Foreseeing dreams six months before the incident that brought you together. What I’m trying to tell you is that Draco feels extremely insecure in this relationship. He’d do anything for you but would never ask for more for himself, because he feels like he already has more than he should. If something isn’t enough for him, he’d swallow it up and endure for the sheer luck to have you at all.”

Harry sighed. That was a side of Draco he would never have guessed about and was just learning to know and understand.

* * *

 

Draco opened the door after the first knock and stared at Harry’s smiling face with a confused little frown.

“Harry? What’s wrong, what are you doing here?”

“Spending the night”, Harry lifted his small duffle bag. When the blonde still looked confused, Harry’s Auror bravery faltered a little. “I mean, if that’s alright with yo-…”

If Draco’s strong grip on his collar as he pulled him inside was any indication, he was more than okay with this plan.

* * *

 

They ended up in Draco’s bed, fully clothed but cuddled together as close as possible. Draco seemed to have melted, sprawled half on top of Harry, half on his side. He was letting out a quiet content noise that sounded very much like purring while Harry’s fingers played absently with the short blond hair at his nape.

“This is heavenly…”, Draco muttered with a voice that sounded like he had stuffed his mouth with cotton candy.

Harry smiled, realizing what it must feel like for the Veela to finally have his Mate in the huge bed he had purchased with that sole reason. The moment was perfect and he didn’t want to ruin it, but what he had planned to say was important.

“Alex told me you were suffering from Separation Anxiety.”

He felt Draco flinching slightly, but otherwise the blonde didn’t move.

“And while that is relatively easy to cure with more time spent together and more physical contact”, Draco melted around him again, “there is something else we really need to discuss.”

He felt as Draco tensed again, but didn’t let go.

“I want to hear those things from _you_. I want you to tell me when you need something. I want _you_ to come to _me_. I know it takes time for you to feel relaxed and confident in this relationship, I know it’s hard to speak up and tell me what’s bothering you, but…”

Draco’s fingers flexed, fisting his shirt and he gave a curt nod.

“I’ll try.”

* * *

 

Two days later Harry was told that he was scheduled to go on a long mission and he had to leave immediately. Of course, he informed Draco – it was his first prolonged assignment since they’d gotten together. Draco took the news stoically, although Harry noticed his tightly clenched jaw and tense posture. He should have known better. But since the blonde said everything was alright, Harry chose to trust that and not his Auror instincts.

It took him a week to accomplish his task (six days of stalking, 15 minutes to actually attack, disarm and arrest the criminals, and a day to get back though the Portkey network). He stopped by the office, meaning to only report briefly to Kingsley and go back home, when he noticed the looks people threw him. He was used to that, mostly, but there was something else in those looks, this time. Some of them looked sympathetic, some even worried. Confused, Harry was about to knock on Kingsley’s office door when someone exclaimed,

“Harry! What are you doing here?!”

Harry turned around, facing a wide eyed Hermione.

“Reporting to the Minister? What are _you_ doing here?”

“Looking for you! Harry, go to him!”

“To whom? Hermione, what’s going on?!”

“Someone in the Auror break room mentioned how it should have taken you much less time and maybe there were complications…”

Harry closed his eyes for a second, trying to reign his emotions in control.

“Draco overheard?”, he just asked.

Hermione muttered a weak ‘yes’.

“He said nothing, didn’t act aggressive, like some books said; I guess that’s because it was just a suggestion, not a fact that you’d been hurt. He just… looked so sick, so weak, just from the thought of that. One of his colleagues helped him go home…”

Cursing loudly, Harry apparated right from the middle of the Ministry.

* * *

 

He knocked, more out of habit than anything else, and entered Draco’s flat without waiting for an answer.

“Draco! Hey, it’s m-…”

There was a muffled struggle, followed by a loud crash of something on the floor. Draco stumbled into the small entryway and just stood there for a second, his puffy and bloodshot eyes taking Harry in with disbelief. His hair was messy as if he had threaded his fingers though it thousands of times. He blinked once more, as if waiting to be sure that Harry was real, then choked on a half-sob and threw himself right into Harry’s open arms, burying his nose in his neck and inhaling deeply as if he was trying to ground himself and stop the desperate shaking of his body. Harry clung to him, just as desperate and not just a little surprised by the revelation of how much he had actually missed the blonde and how deeply he obviously was into this relationship, how much Draco’s feelings actually affected him. He felt really bad for causing the Veela such distress.

“I’m s-…”, Harry began but Draco tightened his hold around him and the Auror got it: the Veela didn’t need words right now. They would have to talk about this, sure, but not right now.

* * *

 

“I hadn’t realized that”, Harry said, staring at the ceiling and absently carding his fingers through Draco’s hair as they lay on the bed again and the blonde was curled around him.

“Realized what?”, Draco’s muffled voice asked.

“That my work’s going to have such an effect on you. Is this going to happen every time I leave for a mission? Is it going to be a problem?”

Draco sighed but lifted his head so he can look up at Harry when he answered.

“Your choice of a job… scares me. But it’s a part of who you are, a big part. And I fell for the whole package. I cannot ask you to quit.”

“But it terrifies you. And it’s going to terrify you every time I leave.”

Draco didn’t answer. He just looked back down and curled back with his head on Harry’s chest.

“There’s something else I hadn’t fully realized”, Harry said.

“What is it?”, Draco asked drowsily.

“It’s how deep I already am into this. I didn’t expect you and your feelings to affect me like that. It just hit me how much you mattered to me. Already, on such an emotional level.”

Draco propped on an elbow and stared down at him, mesmerized. Harry gulped dryly.

“It’s so weird for me, so fast. I’ve been in a longer relationship and I haven’t felt so… emotionally invested. And we’re so new at this and yet… That’s why at first I thought it had to do with the Veela side of this all, but now I know that it doesn’t and I’m just confused. In a nicer way than I would expect.”

Draco smiled crookedly at Harry’s last confession.

“Nicer than expected?”, he asked, amused.

Harry nodded solemnly. “It feels nice to have someone who cares so much, so… for real and not out of obligation. It feels nice to be with you.”

Draco finally beamed, in the way Harry had come to love and cherish and expect and thrive on, and leaned down to kiss him.

* * *

 

“I think you’re ready for the next step in your relationship”, Alex said.

“And what would that be?”, Harry asked, having an idea about it, but naively thinking it was too obvious to be it.

“To bear yourselves to each other”, Alex said simply.

Harry felt Draco tensing on the couch next to him. It was the first time the blonde joined him on his advisory sessions with Dr. Snow and now Alex had to go and kill Harry’s contentedness.

Harry himself was surprised to find that he wasn’t nervous or self-conscious in the prospect of revealing all of himself to Draco.

Draco, however, was. Or at least he seemed to be, fidgeting in his seat.

“I find this quite necessary in this moment of your relationship. And if you take the time to consider it, you will find all the hidden layers of this seemingly simple task”, Alex concluded mysteriously.

* * *

 

That same night the couple stood awkwardly in Draco’s bedroom with a few feet of distance between them, feeling like stupid teenagers. Draco fidgeted again, looking like he’d like to avoid this task more than anything. Harry couldn’t say that the Veela just wasn’t in the mood. There seemed to be no mood to begin with. It was just something they had to do and if they continued to postpone, to ignore and avoid the subject, it would just hold them back; they both knew it.

 “It’s okay”, Harry said, trying to reassure the blonde. “I’ll start.”

He took off his jumper, remaining in his white under-tee. Draco toed off his shoes in reply. Harry smirked.

“Cheat”, he said, following suit. Draco toed off his socks. Harry did the same.

The blonde hesitated. He looked away, seeming almost pained when he finally pulled off his shirt as well. Harry finally understood why, understood where some of Draco’s hesitance came from – the faint scars from the Sectumsempra curse could still be seen on Draco’s pale chest, reminding Harry of his own sins. He wished he could delete the marks, heal them. He wished he could take it back.

But he couldn’t. All he could do was show Draco his own scars.

Harry rewarded Draco’s bravery by taking off his own T-shirt. His own scars – from the Horcrux hunt, from his Auror work, stood out, far more prominent than Draco’s, bearing none of the regret Harry felt for causing the marks on the blonde’s chest. He could see how Draco’s eyes inspected each and every scar and prepared for the judgment, the disgust, the pity. None of it came. Draco’s emotions could easily be seen on his face, changing so fast that Harry felt dizzy: intense need to help his Mate, heal him; rage towards everyone who dared hurt his Mate; confusion why would anyone want to hurt such a perfect person, how they managed it; and finally, pride, even more intense than anything else – his Mate was so brave and wore the marks of his bravery with a head held high, just like he should.

But there was one mark Draco had been hiding for a long time. Harry took a step closer to the blonde and gently wrapped a hand over the thick bandage on Draco’s forearm.

“This has to go too”, Harry said softly, ignoring the way Draco tensed and flinched under even the barest of touches over his Dark Mark. He looked even paler, scared; disgusted of himself like he hadn’t been when he had seen Harry’s scars. He shook his head.

“Draco.”

The blonde closed his eyes when he heard Harry’s gentle yet insistent tone. With a shaky exhale, he surrendered his arm to Harry’s gentle fingers, tugging at the thick bandage. When the skin and the ugly Mark underneath were revealed Harry lifted the arm to his lips and kissed it, tearing another shaky whimper out of Draco.

“You’re so much braver than me for allowing me this”, Harry whispered over the skin, making Draco shiver.

But intense as the experience already was they both knew they couldn’t stop there. Reluctantly letting go of Draco’s hand and even more determined than ever, Harry took off his jeans, remaining only in his boxers.

Draco cleared his throat, doing the same.

Meaning to lighten the mood, Harry’s fingers traced the waistband of his underwear teasingly. He noticed how Draco’s breath hitched and he gulped dryly as Harry pushed down the final piece of clothing. When the Auror looked up again he was met with wide silver eyes, fixed on his groin.

“You’re staring”, Harry noted, smirking.

Draco snapped his gaze up and his jaw clenched determinedly. He pushed down his own underwear. And it was Harry’s turn to stare. He realized that he had taken a moment too long when Draco started fidgeting again, his hands twitching as if he’d like to cover himself. Harry stepped up again and took those hands, squeezing reassuringly.

“You look… amazing. Sexy”, Harry admitted.

“You sound surprised”, Draco observed, making Harry snort and hide his face in Draco’s neck.

“I am. I mean. I’ve only ever been with women…”

“What an excellent mood killer, Potter”, Draco snapped, but Harry held him tighter, preventing him to step back and throw a typical possessive Veela temper tantrum.

“But you have a very masculine and very sexy physique. And it’s very… appealing to me”, Harry concluded.

“…Oh”, was all Draco said, sounding a little breathless.

Harry was already kissing his neck, hands roaming said masculine body. Draco shivered again and cleared his throat. He sounded very reluctant to say what he said next.

“As much as I enjoy this and I love the way it’s heading, I-I… Merlin… need to s-stop you.”

Harry was so surprised to hear this that his head snapped up, almost colliding with Draco’s chin. He stared into the blissed out silver eyes, confused.

“What? Why?”

“We ca-can’t go all the way tonight…”

“Well, no, but we can still make out…”

“No, Harry. Not the first time”, Draco said solemnly, looking more sober now.

Harry frowned, silently demanding answers. Draco sighed.

“It’s… damn it… another Veela thing”, he said, looking up apologetically. “The first time a Veela and their Mate consummate their relationship, a Bond is formed between them, one that is crucial for the whole relationship. Like a base, a foundation. So, we can’t do this half-way, half-assed, whatever. We can’t fool around this first time. It has to be all the way. And… fuck, you’re not gonna like this.”

“What?”, Harry urged.

Draco winced. “It’s a… it’s compulsory that the first time… and maybe a few times after that too… look, for Veela, in order to stake their claim…”

“Draco!”

“I have to be on top, alright!”

The silence that followed was deafening. Draco looked nervous and had that look on his face like he was getting ready to be rejected again. Harry hated that look. He sighed, clenching his fists.

“Promise me this is something of extreme importance for this relationship and not just a quirk, because you don’t want to be on the bottom.”

Draco looked very offended for a second. He then seemed to realize that Harry really did need the reassurance and was actually considering whether to agree. The blonde took a deep breath.

“I promise this has all to do with the dynamics in a Veela/Mate Bond and nothing to do with any reluctance to… give myself to you.”

Something in the way Draco phrased that and looked like he was trying to fight down a blush had Harry on edge.

“Draco, could you be… I mean, have you…”

“Don’t even say it!”, the blonde ground his teeth, running a hand over his (now admittedly pink) face. “I’ll say it only once. And I’ll phrase it like this. While Veela _can_ fool around with other people in their youth… they can only go all the way with their Mate. No one else.”

Draco took another deep breath, turning his back on Harry.

“That, however, is not the reason I have to be on top; I promise you that. I also promise you that… I _want_ to… b-be on the bottom, with you… when my Veela instincts allow me to.”

Harry took a step forward and wrapped his arms around the blonde, kissing his shoulder and then resting his cheek on it.

“I get it. I’m going to need some time to wrap my mind around the idea, but. Okay.”

“Yeah?”, Draco asked weakly.

“Yeah”, Harry promised. “But for now I suggest we go to bed and just… be.”

He could feel Draco’s smile as the blonde answered quietly, “Okay.”


	10. (mis)Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings! So, this chapter contains smut. Some humor. But also a bit of angst.

“You look tired”, Draco observed.

“Pot-kettle”, Harry grumbled, pointing at the dark shadows under Draco’s eyes.

As if admitting defeat, Draco yawned. “I was up late reading for a case. But I have the weekend off. Can you take yours off too?”

“I doubt it. I expect to conduct an arrest on Saturday, if we have all the evidence. Maybe I could take Sunday.”

“Sunday it is. Come by, I’ll cook”, Draco looked better already, just thinking about cooking. As if he felt Harry’s hesitance, though, he added, “That’s not a dinner-with-a-bonus offer. Can we… not focus on the sex part? We don’t _have_ to have sex when we meet, or just because we’ve had dinner, or even sleeping in the same bed. For my Veela instincts just being close to you is enough for now. When we have sex, eventually... you have to be ready.”

Harry forced a smile, nodding. “Yeah. Okay. Is 7 p.m. alright for dinner?”

* * *

 

It was a week after their Sunday dinner. Harry was half-asleep, drinking his coffee in the break room and flipping through the Prophet. He wasn’t really reading, he could barely keep his eyes open - he’d come back from an exhausting mission just a few hours ago. With the way their relationship was progressing, he wasn’t really surprised that he’d ended up on Draco’s doorstep again, half-collapsing. The Veela hadn’t seem surprised either. If anything, Draco had looked more than happy to snuggle the tired Auror in his huge bed.

He’d woken up at noon, alone, with a note from Draco saying that he had to leave for work, but there was some breakfast waiting for Harry in the kitchen, under a Stasis charm. Harry did take advantage of that, and the coffee. An hour later, though, he could use some more caffeine.

 Someone grabbed his mug unceremoniously and Harry bristled, looking up only to see a familiar blonde head behind it. Draco sipped, nonchalant as ever, and made a face.

“You drink too much, too black coffee”, he observed.

“Well, I am the Black heir after all”, Harry shot back.

Aware of that, Draco just smirked, rolling his eyes in a way that spoke _“You and me both.”_

“Can I have my too black coffee back please?”, Harry whined, unashamed of doing so.

“Don’t be stingy, I need some consolation. Weasley beat me in chess.”

Stunned, Harry just blinked a few times before he could choke out,

“You play chess with my best friend?”

“Yes. He _is_ quite good. Damn him. He won three out of five games in the few times we’ve played.”

“Few… You spend time with my friends?”

“Yes. I have coffee with Granger too. Usually on Friday.”

“Ho-… When did this happen?”

“You were busy. I was lonely. And I have to be on good terms with your family.”

“…Oh. I. Thank you for this.”

“It’s really no problem. They turned out to be cool actually. Like Muggles. So, yes, basically, I’m having a good time with your friends. I just haven’t quite figured out yet why I do so _separately_.”

Harry sighed. He hadn’t figured _that_ out either.

* * *

 

Harry blinked at the small device in his hands and then stared back at his increasingly confusing boyfriend.

“What.”

“Come on, I know you know what it is. I wouldn’t have Chosen you if you weren’t intelligent.”

“ _What_.”

Draco rolled his eyes. Hard.

“A cell phone, Harry! It’s _so_ much quicker than owls! OUCH! Not you, Sophie, you’re a Malfoy owl and above all others.”

“ _Why?!”_

“I just answered that. Focus.”

“Draco…”

“No, don’t deny it immediately! Just… give it a chance. Granger has one. It’s handy.”

“Since when do-…”

“ _Humor me._ ”

Harry sighed. This Veela relationship thing made him too soft.

* * *

 

Harry’s _cell phone_ rang with the obnoxious tone Draco had chosen. His fingers twitched with the temptation to hex the thing but he took a deep breath and answered it, if only to have the pleasure to shock the blonde with what he was about to tell him.

“Hello?”

“ _Hey. Where are you?_ ”

“Having some tea. With your Mom.”

There was a loud crash on the other side of the line and Harry grinned when he heard someone yell a _“watch where you’re going, Malfoy!”_ Aware that it looked like they were back to their childish antics, Harry wasn’t surprised to see Narcissa roll her eyes in a way that was becoming painfully familiar.

_“Ho-how’s it going?”_

“It’s very entertaining. She was just showing me your nude baby pictures.”

_“WHAT! Let me talk to her! MOM!”_

“It’s really too much fun, so I’ll talk to you later. Bye-bye, Dragonlet.”

_“MOM!!!!”_

Harry ended the call, grinning like a loon. “Draco sends his love”, he told Narcissa, who just shook her head in amusement.

* * *

 

“How come you drink coffee with my friends and are pretty close to them…”

“I’m not really close with Granger”, Draco interrupted.

Harry frowned. “You said that you have coffee with her, regularly.”

“Yes. And we’re both trying, but… I don’t know. It’s a lot to take in, I guess. She was held hostage in my house and she suffered things no teenage girl should suffer. In my childhood home.”

“Did you know that she was the one who first took me to see you in that court room, when I first asked you on a date?”

“…She did?”

“She did”, Harry nodded. “She may look like she’s holding back, but there are things she doesn’t tell me either. I’m pretty sure she approves of you and this relationship. Draco, you need to understand that the people who really matter, who are part of your or mine or our live, see you for who you are _now_ , judge you by what you do _now_ ; not what you’ve done in your youth. Everyone is more or less of an idiot when they’re teenagers.”

"You saved the world when you were a teenager.”

Harry scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“My point was, you spend time with my friends and I don’t even know yours.”

Draco fidgeted. “Well. Most of them don’t live in Britain.”

“How about Goyle, Parkinson, Zabini?”

“All part of my past”, Draco shook his head. “I tried to approach them after the trials. But they all wanted to mourn what they’d lost. And I’m not talking about people. I’m talking about property. Money. Social standard. It all looked so petty and shallow to me, after everything. So. We split ways.”

“So now there’s Stephan in Bulgaria…”

“Pierre and Claude in France, Tommy and Declan in Ireland. Tyron, we went to Law school together and he lives in London. All of the others are mostly acquaintances.”

“I want to meet them. Eventually”, Harry said.

Draco smiled in that warm and real way Harry loved so much. “Okay.”

* * *

 

Harry woke up, feeling warm and content. He had gotten used to that feeling. He had gotten used to the feeling of having someone else in bed with him again.

He turned around and stared at Draco’s sleeping face. The Veela was cocooned in two blankets only and Harry counted that as a win, since Draco had been sleeping wrapped in five blankets when they’d first started sharing a bed.

He had no idea how long it had been since then.

They would be wrapped around each other, usually even started the night like that (but Harry couldn’t stand the heat of even two blankets and Draco couldn’t even imagine the coldness of Harry’s usual way of sleeping in just his boxers, not even a sheet covering him). It had started out with Draco’s tactile need of skin on skin contact, which was also supposed to make them feel comfortable with each other. And now they were, Harry realized. He was comfortable. Wasn’t that what they had been waiting for? Wasn’t that saying that he should open up for more?

He inched closer and lifted Draco’s blankets a little, snuggling into the blonde. Draco hmm-ed and stirred, slowly opening his eyes with a drowsy smile.

“G’m’r’ning”, he muttered, making Harry grin widely and affectionately.

“Good morning”, he said quietly, as his hand trailed boldly down Draco’s body and under a pair of pajama bottoms. He caressed the soft flesh of Draco’s buttocks gently.

It was enough to earn him a very awake stormy grey look.

“What are you doing?”, Draco asked slowly.

Harry gulped dryly.

“I want to take this to the next level”, he said quietly, holding Draco’s gaze.

The Veela blinked rapidly. “You know what that means.”

“I know”, Harry nodded. “I’m ready. I want this.”

Draco sighed. “I want this too. But I just, I don’t think you’ve…”

Harry grabbed Draco’s hand and firmly dragged it down his own body and over his boxers. Draco’s fingers twitched nervously, making Harry bite back a groan, and the blonde swallowed dryly. Harry smirked.

“You were saying?”

* * *

 

Harry would admit later that the details of what followed were a little blurry in his mind. He could easily recall Draco’s unnaturally bright eyes and the ways his lips trembled a little as he stared down at Harry as if he were an absolute wonder, something that didn’t belong to this world. He could remember being worshiped in a way he had never felt before, adored rather than just loved. Draco’s every touch was so gentle and precise, so light, like he was afraid Harry might break or just up and leave. And Harry tried, tried so hard to reassure the Veela that he was there and he would stay and he was happy and he felt good. Hell, if the embarrassing sounds coming out of him weren’t proof enough, he did not know what was.

Weird as it was for Harry, he did in fact allow himself to let go, without even realizing it. He allowed himself the moans and helpless pleas without fearing that he had to stay strong, in control. He wasn’t scared that his magic could flare up and hurt Draco; subconsciously he knew that Draco was strong enough to take it, even if something like that did happen. When Draco went down on him he allowed himself to get really into it, to be a little rough with the blonde, just for a few thrusts into that hot mouth that Draco allowed _him_ , before he pinned his hips down to the bed. He surrendered himself to Draco’s talented tongue, thrashing into the sheets. His fingers dug into those same sheets and then into the blond tresses. He allowed himself to come in Draco’s mouth, something that he had never allowed himself when he’d been with Ginny. He allowed himself to lay boneless in his afterglow as Draco carefully crawled on top of him and just stared down at him with so much love and none of the eagerness for reciprocation. 

And then, as they lay there staring into each other’s eyes, Harry slowly spread his legs, a silent invitation he could never voice out.

Draco took it with the reverence it deserved, preparing him slowly, gently and thoroughly. The alien feeling of the lube and the probing fingers did bring up a flush to Harry’s cheeks but didn’t lessen his determination or diminish his lust. Innocent in this field as he claimed to be, Draco seemed to know every good spot, massaging and coaxing more moans and mewls, until his fingers found the ultimate spot that made fireworks burst in Harry’s wide open eyes and a drawn-out blissed-out moan escape his lips.

When he finally slipped inside Harry, it was a whole new feeling, one that left Harry gasping for breath and searching for some guidance in Draco’s bright silver eyes, now narrowed from trying to keep himself from thrusting deeper. It felt hot and big and weird and normal and pulsing and Harry didn’t know how to respond to this. But the panic never came as he was sure Draco would find a way to finish this, the way it should be finished, and make it good for Harry, for both of them. Draco waited, and waited until he was sure that Harry had adjusted and was ready and could take it. _It_ being the powerful thrust, straight into Harry’s prostate, making the Auror yelp with surprise, and then moan as his eyes rolled back on Draco’s next thrust. He could only hold on, his fingernails leaving deep cuts into Draco’s skin, on his back and his shoulders. Harry’s fingers would probably leave bruises on Draco, but Draco’s touches were ever so gentle, even as he dived in, deeper, harder. One of his hands barely brushed Harry’s leaking member and that was all it took, all Harry remembered from his own orgasm as all sound and sight was lost on him.

He panted, looking blankly at the ceiling, stars and fireworks still exploding in his vision. He felt as Draco pulled off. It felt wrong. Something was wrong. He looked sideways as Draco shifted next to him, also panting quietly… but not like he was recuperating.

Draco hadn’t come.

Harry reached out, only to have his hand grasped into Draco’s own. Harry frowned, confused.

“I can…”

Draco shook his head, forcing one of those smiles he thought were convincing, but that were actually painful for Harry to look at. “You were great. It was amazing”, he assured.

“You didn’t…”

“It’s okay, Harry, I promise”, Draco insisted. When Harry kept staring at him, he sighed, sat up and wrapped a sheet around his lower half. Whether he was self-conscious (he had no need to be) or it was just too painful to look at his still obvious and probably aching erection, Harry didn’t know. The blond stood up and walked awkwardly into the bathroom.

Harry lay there, wondering what had gone wrong.

* * *

 

The following morning was tense. Draco was hidden behind the newspaper and no amount of staring compelled him to lower it and meet Harry’s eyes. Harry put down his unfinished sandwich and sighed.

“So are we going to talk about this?”, he asked.

“About what?”, Draco was obviously aiming for nonchalant, but it came off as grumpy and nervous.

“You know damn well what”, Harry growled. “Stop ignoring the problem and pretend like nothing happened!”

Draco finally put down the newspaper, sneering viciously.

“I don’t know what your problem is! You came twice!”, he hissed.

“And you didn’t!”, Harry shot back.

“And that should be _my_ problem, not yours!”

Harry gave him a long, cold look. “I thought we were in this together”, he said quietly, before he grabbed his Auror robes and Aparated.

* * *

 

“Sooooo. Did you see them?”, Ron wiggled his eyebrows.

“Seen what?”, Harry muttered, still gloomy after last night.

“Come on, Harry, I can see his love bites from here, they’re glaring at me”, Ron chuckled.

Harry tried to fight down his blush but did nothing to try and cover his marks.

“So, you two went all the way last night”, Ron prompted again.

Harry remained silent.

“Come on, buddy, everyone says they look amazing during sex! And I’ve only seen them once and I was too worried about my best friend almost dying to actually appreciate them!”

“Appreciate what!?”, Harry exploded.

“His wings! Duuh?”, Ron rolled his eyes.

“I haven’t seen his wings”, Harry muttered.

“What? But it’s said that it’s a very intimate thing and some Veela actually only show them to their Mate and especially during… Um. I should shut up. Yeah. Uh, sorry, buddy.”

“I haven’t seen his wings, Ron. _You_ have seen them. _Half the Auror division_ probably saw them that night when he was trying to save me. And I’m his _Mate_ and I have no idea how his wings look. ”

“Harry…”, Ron’s voice was quiet and full of pity. Harry shook his head.

“It’s not only that, not only now. I can sometimes feel how he still… pulls back. Doesn’t reveal all of himself to me. Doesn’t completely let me in.”

Ron sighed.

“Harry… I can tell you why, but you’re not gonna like it.”

Harry’s jaw tightened determinately. “Tell me.”

“Well. You started off wrong. You rejected him…”

“I did not…!”

“… and a Veela will always remember this. No matter how many times you’ve told him you’re committed now. You love and want him now. But deep inside, the Veela always has this little doubt, keeps it on their mind; that you have once rejected them.”

“…How can I make this up to him? Would I ever be able to redeem myself to him, in his eyes?”

Ron smirked. “You’re not going to like this either. It takes patience. Giving in and giving up more and more of yourself to him. Maybe even more than you’re comfortable with.”

* * *

 

Harry knew what he had to do. He had to confront Draco and get things straight. But before he did that there was something else he had to know, a nagging suspicion he had to be sure about.

“It’s _because_ of the wings isn’t it? He can’t come if he doesn’t spread his wings.”

Alex looked distinctly uncomfortable as he nodded, avoiding eye contact.

“Yes.”

“So why didn’t he? I let him… I let him in, why didn’t he…”

“It’s a very intimate thing, Harry, even more so than sex itself…”

“I’M HIS MATE!”

“No, you’re not.”

Harry felt like someone slapped him in the face and stabbed him in his chest.

“What?”

Alex sighed. “It is true that when a Veela-human couple… consummates their relationship, both of them willing, that is considered as a bonding ritual for the Veela’s instincts, a true Mating. But. Only if _both_ participants reach completion.”

Harry collapsed into the nearest armchair, resting his elbows on his knees and digging his fingers into his already messy hair.

“…Why? I keep pushing, keep breaking down the walls around him and he keeps holding back… Do I push too hard, ask too much…?”

“No, Harry! Look. I… I guess he still feels somewhat insecure. And… the wings are the last barrier.”

Harry sighed. This just kept getting worse.

* * *

 

The apartment was dark when Draco came home from work that evening and he sighed, hating how he had been right in assuming that he’d be alone tonight. He turned on the lights and froze in the middle of the living room, staring at the lone figure, sitting on the couch.

Harry said nothing, didn’t even look up at him.

Draco cleared his throat, looking away and throwing his robes over the back of the loveseat. “I didn’t know if you’d be back tonight, with the way you left this morning”, he said quietly.

Harry ignored the accusation and sipped from his glass. Firewhisky, Draco guessed, wincing as he remembered that Harry wasn’t really a fan of it.

“When I went to work today”, Harry began quietly, “My best friend asked me what your wings looked like. Because, you know, he saw them once, briefly, but he was too worried about me and couldn’t fully… enjoy the view.”

Draco, now standing by the countertop with his back turned to Harry, froze again, shocked.

“My best friend saw your wings. And I’ve let you so close, so fucking deep – literally, even – but I have never seen them.”

Draco was fighting with a full-blown panic attack. He was so terrified, that he could only stand there, holding on to the countertop, holding on to the last semblance of his dignity in order to keep himself standing on his feet.

“And then I went to Alex, ranting about how I was your Mate and yet I hadn’t seen your wings and, surprise. I am not even that. Because you wouldn’t let me in. You wouldn’t spread your wings in front of me. You just don’t trust me enough for that.”

 _Just breathe_ , Draco told himself, fighting for each little breath, _breathe, breathe…!_

“At first I was mad, you know. Mad at you for withholding this from me. For still not trusting me, for always accusing me, always feeling rejected by me… And then I just wondered if I could ever redeem myself for that.”

“You can start by not leaving me”, Draco whispered shakily.

Harry looked up, pained. “I wasn’t going to.”

That didn’t work and Draco was still tense, still on edge.

“I _am_ not going to”, Harry corrected.

Draco’s legs suddenly gave out and he collapsed on his knees, seemingly from the sheer relief Harry’s words caused, and he heaved, struggling to breathe properly again. Harry bolted from the couch and dropped on the floor, kneeling behind him, gathering the trembling Veela in his arms. Draco leaned in, as close as he could possibly get, sighing deeply, fighting back the sobs.

“I wanted to”, he rasped out. “When you said you were ready, I thought I was too. I _wanted_ to be. And I tried… I _tried so hard_ , Harry, to just let them out, let you see... It just… didn’t work.”

“Shh. We’ll get over this”, Harry promised, kissing the side of his neck.

“Will we _ever_ have a normal relationship? Something… a little more balanced?”, Draco whispered, still shakily.

“No, I don’t think so”, Harry whispered back with his nose buried in Draco’s hair. “With us, it’s always been shaky and flaring into fights and dramatic collisions. From day one of even knowing each other as kids. From day one into this relationship, too.”

Draco choked on a laugh, curling into Harry’s embrace.


	11. Paris

Despite what Hermione said, Harry could cook. Well, he was no Veela chef Malfoy, but he cooked decently.

Judging by Draco’s suspicious look at the plate Harry presented him with, he could work more on the aesthetic side of his meals.

“I swear it’s good. Just… try it”, Harry said exasperatedly.

“Of course I will”, Draco murmured, still busy inspecting the dish, “ _You_ made it, after all.”

Harry felt himself smiling as Draco poked at the eggs. Harry had made a point of asking the Veela if eating eggs was considered offending for his kind, only to make Draco laugh hysterically for 10 minutes before replying that no, it was not offending, and he did in fact eat eggs.

Now Draco finally braced himself, scooping some of the burnt-looking eggs and quickly shoving them into his mouth as if he thought that no matter how bad it was, at least it would end quickly. He chewed thoughtfully before his frown dispersed into a look of surprise.

“It’s actually not bad”, he conceded.

“Ha! I told you so!”, Harry preened.

The lights in the apartment flickered for a second, making Draco look around and then back at Harry.

“Overjoyed much?”, he teased.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Old wiring”, he said. “It’s been like that since I moved in. I keep forgetting to call an electrician.”

Draco nodded quietly, digging into his brownish eggs. Harry sighed.

“Just say it. You’ve never liked my place.”

“It’s not that”, Draco said. He swallowed down another scoop of eggs before he spoke again. “I’m aware that this is going to sound like asking for too much, especially from someone with trust issues as big as mine, but… You can move in. With me. If you want to.”

Harry blinked once. Twice. He opened his mouth.

He didn’t get a chance to say anything as Draco suddenly dropped the fork and sprang to his feet, pacing and talking quickly and nervously.

“Just! Hear me out – I like my place; I know you like it too and you drop by frequently enough for it to have become comfortable for you too. If we’re really in this, seriously, it should be only a matter of time for us to start living together. And… and… even if it do-doesn’t work out… you have the Black estate and could… if you really need to, I mean… I mean, it’s unpractical, even, to still live separately…”

Harry snorted. “There is nothing _practical_ in your reasons to offer this”, he pointed out, smirking.

Draco dropped his head, looking a little defeated. “No”, he admitted.

“Okay”, Harry said.

Draco’s head snapped back up. “Okay?”

“Okay, I will move in with you”, Harry smiled.

Draco’s beaming smile in return was worth every struggle they’d fought to get there.

* * *

 

“So. This is your half of the wardrobe. You have your own nightstand, of course, and a shelf in the bathroom…”

Harry, only half-listening to Draco’s nervous babble, squinted his eyes towards a few boxes full of clothes, accessories and small souvenirs.

“Oh. Um. I’m going to send those to the Manor. Mother doesn’t exactly require more space…”

Harry kneeled next to one of the boxes and retrieved a green-and-silver Slytherin scarf, smirking back at Draco. The blonde crossed his arms defensively.

“You want to tell me you don’t still keep yours?”, Draco lifted an eyebrow in challenge. Harry shrugged. Draco rolled his eyes and grabbed the scarf from his hands. He sat down on the bed and ran a hand through the logo of his old house, smiling darkly. “Everyone always sees Slytherin as the house of the Dark Lord. As if no one else has ever lived and studied there. No one good.”

Harry sat down next to Draco, bumping his knee gently.

“And yet it never stopped you to always be so proud of your house”, he teased.

Draco smirked, but it was still that bittersweet smile he thought was so convincing. And that wasn’t, actually; not to Harry. The Auror sighed. His next words were very serious and held no joke.

“What I mean is… you went there. You lived and studied there and you’re good. You’re making Slytherin very proud.”

Draco said nothing. He just moved closer, resting his head on Harry’s shoulder, comfortable with the silence and his Chosen’s warmth.

And later, Harry would retrieve that scarf from the boxes of old clothes and memories and hang it back in their wardrobe.

* * *

 

Harry woke up slowly, feeling completely at peace. He had learned to cherish that feeling, especially after spending months in the wilderness, searching for Horxuses, and years of being an Auror. Peace seemed to have evaded him for pretty much all his life. Until he met a man, who had changed so much that it was like Harry had met him for the first time ever.

He turned around and couldn’t suppress a sleepy smile – Draco slept on his belly, face turned to Harry, lips slightly parted and his blond hair a tangled mess. He also looked peaceful, finally, and much healthier; he finally _slept_ again, at all, since Harry knew their rocky beginning and relationship problems had reflected on Draco, a lot. Harry sighed and tried to slip out of their bed unnoticed – Draco needed his sleep.

He should have known it was simply not possible to go unnoticed by his Veela.

Draco stirred slightly, opening bleary eyes and blinking sleepily at Harry.

“Wh’r you goin’?”, he mumbled, making Harry smile again.

“To the bakery. It’s Sunday, go back to sleep.”

“Get me a…”

“Croissant with strawberry jelly, I know.”

“And…”

“Cappuccino, I know.”

“L’v you.”

Harry grinned wider. “I know”, he said, bending for a kiss on Draco’s brow. “Me too.”

Draco’s sleepy smile as he snuggled back in his blankets made Harry whistle quietly as he walked out and turned to lock the door – with a key, since they had to be careful with their Muggle neighbors.

“Hello.”

Harry whipped around, everything in him screaming to snap out his wand, hidden in his sleeve. The “threat” was an elderly woman smiling sincerely at him.

“Oh, dear, I didn’t mean to scare you…!”, she apologized.

“Uh, no, no, it’s fine. I’m still sleepy, that’s all”, Harry smiled back, mentally cataloging her as a someone to keep an eye on, since she had been able to sneak up on him, the Senior Auror.

There was an awkward pause before the woman shook her head slightly and reached out a hand.

“Where are my manners? I’m Mrs. Lewis, Draco’s neighbor from C-12.”

“Yes, I kn-… I mean, he’s mentioned you. Yes. I’m Harry”, he babbled, wincing mentally as he shook her small hand.

“Are you… living with Draco?”, she asked tentatively.

Harry fidgeted. “Um, yes. I, er…We used to be classmates, you see…”

“There is no need to be shy or hide if you’re more than just classmates”, she smiled knowingly.

Harry sighed, his shoulders sagging a little as he surrendered to her charm and smiled back.

“We’re together. As a couple”, he admitted.

“Well, that’s no surprise for me. It’s not like he’s hid his preferences; not like he needed to either. We’re a small, quiet, but open-minded community. And he’s everyone’s favorite neighbor, too – always kind, always helping. Who he dates has nothing to do with us. As long as he’s happy. And he is, I think. He looks… better. You must be good for him.”

Harry smiled, impressed by her thoughts and observations, before he nodded curtly. “I try. I have a lot to make up for.”

She smiled her motherly smile again. “I think you have already.” 

Harry couldn’t hold back another pleased smile as he nodded again. “Thank you. For your support.”

“Oh, you’re going to need it!”, she giggled.

Harry frowned, suddenly feeling lost. “I thought you said his neighbors would accept us?”

She seesawed her head. “Most of them. There _will_ be broken hearts though. I said _I_ could tell that he liked men. But when a girl falls in love, hope is all she has – it could even blind her for the obvious. So be careful with Annie from B-15, Laura from A-10, Sophie from D-7… oh, and Mike from A-8.”

Harry’s eye twitched. “Noted. _Thank you_ , Mrs. Lewis.”

“Clara, please. I keep telling Draco to call me Clara, to no avail.”

“Thank you, Clara”, Harry smiled.

“I’ll see you around, Harry. It was a pleasure meeting you!”, she beamed before she took the steps up to her own apartment.

Harry shook his head, still smiling, and jogged down to Draco’s favorite bakery, mentally deciding to properly meet Annie, Laura, Sophie and Mike, soon; one had to know one’s enemy...

* * *

 

Harry didn’t look forward to going back to his office after his lunch break – his office meant paperwork and memo-s and the occasional owl or even a Patronus from Kingsley. He was tired. He hadn’t been prepared how much time and _effort_ being in a new relationship could take. It was rewarding, of course, but it was hard work, on top of his already hard Auror work. He needed a break.

As if he had read his mind, Draco caught up with him as Harry was on his way back to his office. He looked excited and nervous, and like he had run on his way there.

“Can I have a word with you?”, he asked quietly.

“Sure, ignore me like I’m not even here”, Ron grumbled next to them.

“Yeah, what is it?”, Harry asked.

“Hello? Ron Weasley? Best friend to one of you, play chess with the other every week?”

“You said you wanted to meet my friends”, Draco said.

“Ron, I’ll meet you back in the office”, Harry said, not taking his eyes off Draco.

Ron huffed, flailing his arms in exasperation, before he walked off.

“I’m listening”, Harry smiled back at the Veela.

“Well. I have some days off to take and after everything that happened I thought we could use a little break. So, I was thinking, if you could spare some time, like maybe a long weekend, we could go to… France?”, Draco asked hesitantly.

Harry grinned. “When are we going?”

* * *

 

“You look happy”, Hermione noted.

Harry smiled. “I am”, he admitted easily, digging into his ice cream. It was good, but he still missed Fortescue’s. “I honestly couldn’t image it in the beginning, but. Yeah, I am happy now.”

“I’m really glad, Harry. You deserve it”, Hermione’s smile was warm and real, but still held some of that pain Harry couldn’t exactly pinpoint, like she could never really smile in that bright way she used to smile back in the time.

“I could say the same for you”, Harry said quietly. “And I want you to be happy, too.”

Hermione sipped her coffee and forced another smile. “But I am, Harry. I have my friends, and a job that I love…”

 _“And you could have the man that you love too, just as soon as you say the words”,_ Harry wanted to say. But he knew he shouldn’t push. They’d had more than enough arguments on the matter already and he didn’t want to hurt her anymore. He decided to change the subject.

“Nice shirt”, he nodded towards her graphic t-shirt, boldly saying _“I put a spell on you!”_

Hermione looked down at her clothes as if she had forgotten what she was wearing and chuckled.

“A present from my parents”, she said. “It’s kind of an inside joke, because that’s a quote from a Muggle song and so no one in Muggle London thinks it’s any strange. And only we know that I _could_ actually put a spell on someone.”

Harry smiled, laughing along. And then an idea came to him.

“Hey, can you ask them where they purchased it? And if you could order some other design?”

* * *

 

They ended up taking a whole week off. Draco, being the workaholic that he was, had more than enough days off to take for a long vacation, but he had been a little surprised when the Auror had refused to use those cumulated days of paid leave and instead had gleefully insisted that the Ministry regards this week as a Formal Veela Courting and Bonding in which case they were allowed more days to be together.

“It’s not about getting more paid time off”, Harry had told Draco as he had been packing his suitcase. “It’s about official recognition of this relationship. I want to do things right, the formal way, and not like we’re sneaking around, hiding from people. I’m not going to hide this. You. Us.”

Harry had been unable to continue packing in the next hour or so, having to deal with an emotional Veela, who had tackled him with possessive kisses.

The next interruption of their packing was Harry’s fault, again.

Draco had been quietly considering yet another shirt when Harry handed him a simple bag with a logo of a Muggle T-shirt shop.

“Here”, the Auror said, “I thought you may like it. Or you may, of course, find it too shabby for Paris’ chic style…”

Draco was already pulling out the wrapped item, revealing it to be a green and white long-sleeved T-shirt with the words “ _Straight outta Slytherin_ ” written boldly on the front. Harry could immediately tell that Draco liked the shirt. And he was beginning to recognize that look.

“We’re never gonna pack in time for the Portkey, are we?”, he managed, right before Draco pounced.

* * *

 

They ended up missing their Portkey and had to catch the next one. They had to make four transfers and Draco didn’t stop whining how there should be a direct Portkey to France and even Muggles had direct flights.

“Oh! How about we use a Muggle airpl-…”

“No!”

They arrived in Paris around midnight, in what looked like an abandoned warehouse from the outside and like a busy Muggle airport from the inside. The only difference was that the people who waited to depart or for their loved ones to arrive were obviously Wizards – some of them wore robes, others were dressed like Muggles, but didn’t bother to hide their wands as they threw Time Charms.

Draco’s friends waited patiently, engaged in an animated conversation, judging by their gestures. They turned when Draco called their names, smiling widely, opening their arms for a welcoming hug.

“Pierre, Claude, this is Harry”, Draco turned to introduce them, beaming with pride.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Harry!”, one of them said with a strong accent.

“Yes, you are pretty much all Draco has talked about since… forever!”, the other one said, his voice deep and matching his bigger frame.

“I’m Pierre, by the way, and this is Claude”, the first one, a short and slim blonde with deep green eyes, added.

Harry blinked.

“Harry?”, Draco asked worriedly.

“You speak English”, Harry whispered, so obviously relieved that the two men burst laughing. Draco narrowed his eyes.

“Was that all you were thinking about, all the way here? Was that why you were so snippy?”

“Snippy!? It’s because of you that we missed our Portkey and yet you didn’t stop complaining the whole time…”

“We could have just taken the plane! If you had let me finish…”

“Oh, so you could whine about business class not being as good as…”

“ _Of course_ we would have booked first class!”

“Awe”, Pierre cooed. “Look at them, _amour_. We used to be the same”, he sighed dramatically.

“We still are, _adoré_ ”, Claude answered, nuzzling Pierre’s neck.

Harry gaped. “You’re a couple.”

“Bien súr?”, Claude said, his dark eyes confused.

Draco smiled guiltily. “Eh. Didn’t I mention that?”

* * *

 

“So… are all of the friends you named… well, together?”, Harry asked as they were preparing to go to bed in the fancy hotel room, chosen by Draco.

A snort was heard from the bathroom as the blonde flipped the lights there off and walked out. His hair was still wet and messy from his shower, blond tresses now longer than when they’d first started dating; Harry decided he liked it that way, now. A pristine white hotel towel was wrapped around his waist, wide shoulders and well-defined pecs and abs on display; the muscles on his back twitched for a second, as if fighting with a cramp from a long flight. A pale blond happy trail was the only hair on his upper body, his chest smooth and showing only a silky pale skin.

“No, and Tommy might actually punch you if you even suggest it. Since he’s married, to Nessa.”

Harry just blinked stupidly, totally having forgotten what he’d asked. Draco frowned a little.

“You must be tired, huh?”, he smirked slightly, shaking his head and dropping his towel nonchalantly.

Because he had no issues with Harry seeing his naked body, not anymore. Only the wings were a problem.

Draco crawled into bed and gathered the grumping Auror in his arms.

“Get some sleep. We’ll go sightseeing tomorrow”, he just said, kissing Harry’s brow gently, his heartbeat lulling the brunette.

* * *

 

 When Harry woke up in the morning the bed was empty and the sheets were cold. A note was left on Draco’s pillow.

_“Gone for a jog. Will be back by 8.”_

Harry checked the clock – it was 7:45. He sank back into the sheets and sighed contently. As if on cue the door opened and there was a quiet shuffling in the small kitchen. Only a minute later Draco tip-toed into the bedroom. It was obvious that he had exercised, his wavy blond hair now matted back, his shirt – the “ _Straight outta Slytherin_ ” one, Harry noted, his heart warming with the sight – sporting wet spots here and there. He saw that Harry was awake and smiled, dropping the sneaking-around.

“Hey you”, he said simply, seeming content to just enjoy the view of Harry, sprawled in bed.

The Auror smiled back and made a beckoning gesture. “C’mere.”

“I better not, Harry, I’m all sweaty and nasty…”

“Come. Here.”

Draco sighed and bent down gingerly. Harry gripped the front of his shirt and dragged him down further, kissing him deeply. He pulled back in a few moments and sighed contently again.

“Good morning.”

“Mm”, Draco agreed. “I brought you something sweet.”

“Even better morning”, Harry decided, making Draco laugh. “What did you get me?”

“Macarons”, Draco answered, still smiling dreamily down at the Auror.

“I have no idea what it is, but it sounds nice.”

Draco chuckled again. “Go try them, they’re in the kitchen. I’ll just have a quick shower.”

“Want company?”, Harry asked innocently.

The silver clouds in Draco’s eyes darkened considerably.

Yep. He wanted company, Harry concluded.

* * *

 

Harry decided he absolutely _loved_ macarons. As he moaned so between bites Draco smiled warmly and informed him that it took some real skill to achieve results as good as those.

“I found this little bakery three years ago as I was going back from a jog again. It’s actually right in the middle of my favorite jogging track.”

“You seem to know Paris very well”, Harry observed.

Draco shrugged. “I’ve lived here – for a few months right after the trials and then during breaks from Law School.”

“Why here?”

Another shrug. Draco’s faraway expression gave away nothing.

“My family comes from France. As confused in our beliefs as I was after the War, I refuse to believe they were all…bad.”

“Same as with the Slytherin house. You were fed up with the stereotypical assumptions”, Harry concluded.

Draco finally cracked a small smile. “Yes. And I needed to go back to my roots and try to understand them better.”

“And did you?”

“Somewhat.”

Harry nodded.

“I’m taking you sightseeing today”, Draco said. “After all, you need the indispensable Eifel Tower selfie.”

Harry frowned. “Sel-what?”

* * *

 

They went to the Tower and Champs Elysees and Draco took a picture of Harry or Harry and himself (ah, that’s what a selfie was) at almost every turn. He sent those to Hermione and got an _emoticon_ with thumbs-up.

“You’re unhealthily obsessed with that thing, for a Wizard”, Harry noted, nodding towards Draco’s smartphone.

“But it’s so _handy_ ”, Draco insisted. “Even Mother is on her way to see this.”

“I’ve met your Mother. She really isn’t.”

Draco scoffed and elbowed him, but didn’t comment further. The blonde purchased some wine to be sent back home and got a few trinkets for their friends back in Britain. They stopped at another bakery and bought some eclairs.

“With desserts as amazing as that, how do you keep yourself fit?!”, Harry asked around a mouthful of sweetness.

“I jog”, Draco reminded, smirking. His smile faded a little as he admitted, “And… flying is a fairly effective way of training too.”

“I want to fly with you some day”, Harry said quietly.

Draco blushed so adorably that Harry felt as if every person on the street turned to look at him. He grabbed the blonde’s arm possessively, blatantly demonstrating that this man was taken. If he was a little surprised with himself, he decided that Draco had rubbed-off on him. Obviously.

* * *

 

 “There is one more place I want to show you”, Draco said carefully that evening as they had just returned to the hotel and dusk was falling outside. The Auror noticed how the muscles on the Veela’s back were twitching slightly and he looked like he was fighting back an itch.

“Okay?”, Harry frowned a little, confused by the blonde’s strange behavior. “We could go after dinner, or even tomo-…”

“No! I mean”, Draco coughed awkwardly. “We could eat there.”

Feeling how important that was for the Veela, Harry conceded.

* * *

 

The mansion was beautiful, obviously old, but very well kept. It was huge, as everything the Malfoy family possessed – from their beauty to their ego. And there was no doubt in Harry’s mind that it was ancestral; apart from the grandiosity of it, there was a family crest on the front door. The gardens were vast and too pristinely trimmed for Harry’s taste, but there was a small forest of broad-leafed trees nearby. It looked untouched by the hands of gardeners, close enough to the house to provide a perfect view of it, but still secluded and promising a quiet place for reading or just lounging and sky-gazing.

Draco was nervous and twitchy again by his side and Harry felt like he had to say something.

“If you have an ancestral mansion in France, why are we staying in a hotel?”, he couldn’t help but ask.

“Chateau”, Draco corrected then looked away before answering. “Because you probably find it obnoxiously big and pompous.” 

Touché.

Harry had to phrase his answer carefully.

“I don’t want you to hold back from feeling absolutely comfortable with the things and places you love, just because you’re with me. We’re together in this. If it’s important to you, it’s important for me… And I definitely like the forest over there.”

Draco grabbed him by the back of his neck and kissed him, hard and emotional. When he finally pulled back a little he was panting as he breathed out,

“I want to show you more.”

* * *

 

The house was just as big from the inside as it looked from the outside. The spacious foyer led to a majestic staircase to the upper floors with two corridors venturing to the right and to the left, to a sitting room and the main kitchen respectively, Draco explained. For a place that had been supposedly uninhabited for quite some time, it looked pristinely clean. Harry made that observation out loud, making the Veela fidget again.

“I have house elves”, he admitted. “Don’t tell Granger!”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head, but promised that he wouldn’t.

Draco showed him the sitting room, bathed in sunlight from the French windows, designed in warm green and yellowish tones, leaving Harry with the impression of early spring. He decided he liked this room. And he was beginning to slowly warm up for the huge old house.

The stairs to the first floor led right in front of a big portrait of an obviously aristocratic man, painted in such detail that it almost looked alive. Even though, unlike every other painting in the Wizarding world Harry had seen, this one wasn’t actually moving.

“It was made by a Muggle artist”, Draco explained, surprising Harry. The blonde just smirked at his stunned expression and continued, “It turns out our honorable founder of the Malfoy Manor in England, Armand Malfoy, was actually quite fond of Muggle art and appreciated other purely Muggle talents, as long as they were not transmitted by blood into the Malfoy family. The idea that Muggles were generally lowly and unworthy is his grandson’s, Gerard.”

Harry nodded before looking back at the portrait of Armand.

“You look a lot like him”, he observed.

Draco shrugged. “So they say”, he said, before walking upstairs.

There were a few more private suits, consisting of sleeping quarters, bathroom and a sitting room, and then they were standing in front of an elaborate wooden door and Draco was fidgeting again.

“This is the master bedroom, isn’t it?”, Harry asked softly.

Draco nodded solemnly. “It is.”

“Not many of your… friends have seen it, I assume.”

“None of them has”, Draco said quietly. “It’s something only the Master of the house and his Mate share.”

Harry nodded solemnly. _“Is that why you brought me here just now? Or is there another reason?”_ , he wanted to ask, but he felt like it was too brash. He cleared his throat and motioned towards the door. “Should I…?”

Draco just nodded, seeming unable to form words right now.

Harry pushed open the double doors, stepping in slowly, eyes narrowing from the dazzling whiteness of the room. _Everything_ was white – the walls, every single furniture, the thin drapes of the French windows… The bed was yet another over-opulence bathed in pristine whiteness – it was huge, majestic and so stunningly beautiful with its fine ornaments and its white canopy. A few candles were floating around it, at a safe distance from the canopy, casting a faint, mystic light, entwined with the very last rays of the sunset. Harry gulped nervously, thinking how innocent it all looked, how innocent in that field Draco still seemed even after their first attempt of engaging in something carnal. Unsure what to say or do, Harry walked over to the window and looked outside; the forest was visible from the master bedroom, looking even more like something _this_ master was particularly fond of.

He felt as Draco’s arms wrapped him gently in a hug and the Veela buried his nose in his neck.

“I’ve wanted to bring you here for a while now”, he admitted quietly. “I was nervous. But my Veela was getting restless.”

“The twitching on your back”, Harry remembered, feeling as Draco nodded. “What took you so long?”, the Auror asked, smiling slightly.

“I wanted it to be perfect”, The Veela said.

“It is”, Harry said, turning around in Draco’s embrace and gently kissing the blonde.

The kiss was returned, passionately, and Draco’s hands slid into unruly black hair, pulling the Auror closer. Harry’s hands gripped Draco’s hips, sliding up and around a trim waist, pulling at the white shirt. His deft fingers crawled underneath the thin material and caressed the pale skin, making the Veela gasp and moan into the kiss.

“Harry…”, Draco tried.

“Don’t think”, the Auror ordered. “Stop overthinking and just let go with me.”

He had never fully realized the effect his words could have on Draco, until the Veela visibly relaxed into the kiss, into Harry’s embrace. The brunette’s fingers slowly unbuttoned the blonde’s shirt, revealing the pale skin underneath, maddeningly slow and careful as if Draco would break if they tried something rougher.

The Veela, while kissing and caressing back, seemed contemplative.

“You’re thinking again”, Harry accused, his lips barely a breath away from Draco’s.

“Just about the new shirt I’m going to buy you tomorrow”, the blonde whispered back.

“Huh?”, Harry frowned, but just then a sharp talon tore down his shirt, carefully pealing it off the Auror’s toned body with what seemed like glee and a hint of predatory instincts. His jeans followed and before Harry knew it, Draco was gently pushing him back to the bed, where he laid him down carefully, showing none of the eagerness the twitching on his back hinted about. When Harry was positioned right in the middle of the huge bed, on the most comfortable possible place, surrounded by pillows and soft silken sheets, Draco pulled back and stood up to finally pull down his own jeans and boxers.

Harry had seen him naked before, of course, but it still continued to amaze him that a man as handsome, smart and surprisingly romantic as Draco saw Harry and only Harry as the most perfect choice for a life partner, as the most perfect man, his other half, his one and only. It was a heady feeling but it also filled Harry with a sense of humility.    

Draco wasted no time with Harry’s underwear, slashing it with a talon again, before he lowered his lips over Harry’s painfully hard flesh. The gesture was somehow full of reverence and adoration and Harry felt lightheaded. Like the first time they had done this, Draco seemed determined to lead Harry to completion, at least once, before the main event, if that was even happening.

Harry was having none of this. He pulled gently on Draco’s hair until the blonde looked up, his full lips even puffier, red and glistening. Harry gulped dryly, trying to collect his thought, trying to remember what was so important for him right now.

“This isn’t just about me…”, he whispered hoarsely.

“It will _always_ be about you”, Draco whispered back passionately, a promise that made Harry shiver.

But he had to concentrate, he had to make Draco understand.

“Don’t you see it’s the same for me? That I feel the same for _you_?”, he asked. “I want you to be there with me. I want to be the one to take you there, to make you come so hard that if feels like you’re flying. And I’ll be flying right there next to you”, he smiled.

Draco’s eyes widened slightly and his breath hitched for a second, before he buried his head in the crook of Harry’s shoulder.

“What you’re going to do is make it end all too soon if you talk like that”, he moaned.

Harry chuckled. “Make sure it ends inside me then”, he said, making Draco moan again and quickly conjure some lube.

The steps of careful and thorough preparation were a big blur for Harry. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware that Draco was making sure to take good care of him, even while he himself was so close to coming that it must be painful for him to hold back. But he did, for Harry’s sake, making sure his Chosen was ready for him when he finally slid inside him. 

It shouldn’t feel so new to Harry, so overwhelming to have and feel Draco inside him, but it was and he figured it will always feel somehow different, that every time with Draco would be unique, an experience as exclusive as the man himself was. The Veela tried to move slowly and gently at first, but they were both too wound up for it to last for long. There would be times for taking things nice and slow, but not now, not when they had put this off for too long and the pent up sexual frustration was driving them both towards a much needed release. It was going to end all too soon and they both knew it.

Draco’s hands left Harry’s thighs and a second later the Auror felt sharp talons digging into the pillows next to his head, always careful not to hurt him. His own blunt nails dug into Draco’s back and he wasn’t above begging anymore.

“Come on”, Harry pleaded hoarsely, “Together.”

Draco gasped on each breath, biting on his bottom lip until he drew blood, his eyes narrowed, his face was red from exertion, sweat beading on his forehead.

“Draco, please…”, Harry begged.

Draco roared, throwing his head back in ecstasy as his orgasm hit him hard; in the same moment huge white wings burst from his back, spreading wide and magnificent, trembling with the force of his passion.

And then something clicked and Harry froze for a second, in the peak of his own orgasm, too stunned to even breathe. Images and feelings, memories that weren’t his own played right before his eyes. Narcissa bending down to kiss a small brow, her eyes full of so much love; the vast gardens of the Malfoy Manor, green and full of life as he, or most likely _Draco_ as Harry saw this from his perspective, ran free; Draco’s first broom; Draco’s first spreading of his wings, still small back then and causing pain that would lessen until it vanished completely in later years…

A scruffy boy with messy black hair, standing hesitantly at Madame Malkin’s; the boy on a train, arguing with Draco; the boy, being sorted into Gryffindor, for Draco’s utter disappointment; the boy flying; the boy walking out of a labyrinth; the boy, now a man, standing in the wreaks of a castle…

A young Auror, walking proudly in his new uniform; the same warrior, looking beaten and bloodied after a mission, making Draco’s heart clench; the man, bloodied and unconscious under Draco’s spread wings; the man, looking angry as he rejected Draco and the pain that caused; days and weeks of dull but constant pain until…

The man, looking shy and nervous as he asked Draco out, confusing the Veela more than ever; the man, smiling widely, laughing at something Draco said; the man, cooking for Draco, or at least trying very hard; the man kissing Draco; green eyes, half-lidded with lust; the man eating a macaron, moaning happily; _His Mate_ , spread willing and so open, so accepting, so loving, underneath Draco…

Harry choked on a moan, coming so helplessly, so hard that it almost hurt, eyes gone wide, shocked from the sight of the man above him. It was too much for his body, an overstimulation of so many senses; too much, too good of touch, of sight, of hearing and tasting the amazing creature above and inside him. His body short-circuited and he dropped boneless onto the silken sheets, his eyes closing on their own. He barely felt as Draco sank his unusually sharp teeth in his neck, before the Veela collapsed on top of him, panting harshly. After a few moments the blonde shifted awkwardly, as if he meant to withdraw from Harry, to withdraw the wings. Harry made an effort and lifted a hand, dropping it blindly on a wing.

“Don’t you dare move”, Harry rasped out before blacking out.


	12. Claimed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some more fluff and smut before the angst...  
> To Kikavass: These are the few "French" lines I was talking about. Please write back with any suggestions!

Harry woke up, cocooned in warmth. He felt like he had fallen asleep on a cloud, so comfortable that he had never, ever felt before. He had never slept on sheets as soft as a caress, on a mattress that hugged his body like he was floating in the air. Harry wriggled a little, feeling pleasantly sore, humming as he slowly opened his eyes.

The sun had just risen and the room was bathed in soft light. The French windows were open, their thin drapes dancing with the gentle wind. Draco sat in an armchair right in front of the windows, looking blissfully content as he drank his coffee. From what Harry could see from this angle the blonde only wore another thin white shirt, mostly unbuttoned, and a pair of white-and-icy-blue boxers. His hair was sexily disheveled and Harry could see some of his own bite marks here and there on Draco’s pale skin. Feeling even more content he stretched again and yawned, reopening his eyes to Draco’s lazy smile, aimed at him.

Harry smiled back. “How’s ‘Good morning’ in French?”, he asked.

“Bonjour”, Draco answered, standing up and walking predatorily towards the bed.

“How’s ‘Gimme some coffee?’”

“Puis-je prendre une tasse de café?”, Draco purred as he handed Harry the cup and watched his Mate sip and hum contently. “I’m going to make some breakfast.”

“Hmm”, Harry agreed, not making a move to return the cup. Draco bit back a smirk.

“You’re welcome. And yes, you can finish my coffee.”

Harry grinned cheekily, kissing back as Draco bent down to smack his lips before walking out with a wink. Harry sighed again and sank back into the pillows, drinking his coffee.

* * *

 

Draco was making pancakes when Harry finally deigned him with his presence. He sat at the table, where a cup of freshly made coffee (Draco’s again) fell his victim. He was patiently waiting for his plate, contemplating something that suddenly seemed far more important than it had been last night.     

 “It’s not fair”, Harry grumbled over his coffee.

“What isn’t?”, Draco asked, sounding amused at his Mate’s petulance, as he flipped another pancake.

“I barely even saw them.”

Draco turned around, smiling wide. “Oh, you mean them?”, he asked, suddenly spreading his wings.

Caught off-guard, Harry choked on his coffee, coughing to clear his throat. When he finally managed to breathe normally he stared at his Veela, stunned. He blinked once, slowly, then stood up and went closer, rounding the blonde to get a better look at his back.

Now as he had the time to freely appreciate them, Harry found Draco’s wings truly stunning. They were pristinely white at the tops, ivory towards the middle and a pale golden at the base. The feathers ruffled under Harry’s scrutiny, but didn’t withdraw.

“Just like that?”, Harry whispered at Draco’s back.

He heard the blonde gulping dryly.

“Showing them to your Mate for the first time is the hardest. From then on…”

“So are we fully Mated now?”, Harry asked.

Draco turned around and smiled warmly as he nodded. “We are. The Mating is considered complete when the couple first consummates their relationship, both willingly and fully giving themselves to the other… without holding anything back”, he added sounding guilty. Harry smiled encouragingly, silently telling him it was behind them now. Draco cleared his throat and continued. “The act of establishing a Mating bond is commonly called a Claiming. And this”, Draco gently touched the bite mark on Harry’s neck, making the Auror shiver and bite back a moan, “which never fully heals and remains always visible, is usually referred to as Claim, Claiming bite or Claiming mark.”

By the way Draco said that Harry could tell he didn’t like the last term.

“And how would you like to refer to it?”, he asked carefully.

“I’d like to refer to _you_ as mine now. That is the whole meaning of the bite – to show others that you are taken, Mated to me. And before you bristle, that goes both ways and I am as obviously and officially yours as you are mine. To other Veela, you have already laid your claim by scenting me, but you have the right to lay a Claiming bite of your own for everyone else to see.”

Harry shook his head. “I don’t need to mark you…”

“But I would like you to”, Draco admitted quietly.

Harry nodded slowly, storing away that information for later use. “And then… what?”

“Wizarding Society recognizes the Claim as official enough sign of completed bonding. But the law demands a formal Bonding ritual to recognize us as a family, having every privilege that comes with it. It’s a Wizard thing. For Veela society the Claim is the ultimate bonding.”

“And for you?”, Harry asked, even more carefully.

Draco contemplated his answer, staring searchingly at his Mate.

“I would like a formal Bonding. I might be a Veela, but I was also born and raised as a Wizard. My Veela is content with just looking at my Claim on your neck. But as a man, I’d like to walk you down the aisle one day.”

Harry didn’t even try to hold back his smile. They were so similar, both seeing it as the most natural thing when you’ve finally found the One.

And he was finally, finally sure that he had.

As he lifted Draco’s hand to kiss his knuckles, he thought that the Dark Mark looked paler, fading in the light of something pure and real.

* * *

 

Harry’s idea of reading and relaxing in the forest of the chateau came true on the next day when Draco dragged him there without Harry having said anything. By noon they were curled together, chilling in the shades thrown by the trees, the books now laying forgotten next to them. Harry’s back rested against a tree and Draco’s head was in his lap as the blonde dozed off.

Harry contemplated the sleeping Veela, smiling slightly in awe.

“When did I fall in love with you?”, he wondered.

He realized his mistake as a slow smirk crawled on Draco’s full lips and, without opening his eyes, he murmured, “While you were stalking me, I assume.”

Harry cringed. “Are you still mad for that?”

Draco finally opened his eyes and stared back at him with an open look. “No”, he answered honestly, shaking his head. “It brought us together after all.” He sighed. “I just wish I knew more about _you_.”

“But you do already”, Harry smiled. “You know how I drink my coffee…”

“Poisonous black.”

“How I like my pancakes, and I haven’t even told you this…”

“It’s a Mate thing.”

Harry stopped searching for more arguments and his smile dimmed a little as he looked down at his Veela. When he opened his mouth again, his voice was serious and a little raspy.

“That night when we… when you showed me your wings, I… I saw some things.”

Draco didn’t say anything, looking at his Mate solemnly.

“I saw, I think they were memories, your memories”, Harry rushed. “About your childhood… and about me. The way you saw me.”

Draco smiled lovingly, silently encouraging Harry to ask the question he wanted to ask.

“Did you, about me… I mean, did you…”

“Yes.”

Harry closed his eyes, squeezing them shut. The muscles on his jaw were clenched tight and he looked pained. A single gentle caress, a finger lovingly teasing his cheek, made him slowly open his eyes and stare back at the most amazing silver he had ever seen. Draco’s eyes were stormy, brimming with emotions. Harry took a deep breath, wondering how to ask, needing to know.

“I saw a green light”, Draco said quietly. “And… I guess that was your mother. You _do_ have her eyes.”

Harry squeezed them shut again, his heart skipping a beat, feeling heavy and painful inside of him.

“And I saw your Muggle relatives. And they were everything my parents told me all Muggles were like. I wanted to rip them to pieces for what they did to you, how threated you. I still want to. But you’d never let me. And you wouldn’t be the person I fell in love with if you let me do it. Even if I want to. Even if a part of you wants so, too.”

Harry knew he was breaking apart, even as he listened intently, striving for every word, needing the relief it brought.

“I saw Weasley and Granger through your eyes, felt what they mean to you, what Molly Weasley and her whole family mean to you. And I hope… I hope maybe, someday, if they’d accept me… you can properly introduce me into your family. I hope, someday, maybe I’d be able to give you something like that.”

Harry felt the tears falling down his cheeks but didn’t try to hide or put up a strong face, not in front of his Veela. He felt as Draco gently brushed off his tears and never felt embarrassed for having shown weakness.

 “And then I saw myself. Merlyn, I _did_ really annoy you, huh?”

Harry choked on a laugh, caught off guard. Draco’s smiling face swam in and out of sight as he tried to focus his blurry eyes.

“But you were also obsessed with me, long before love was ever a part of the picture, but I was still a big part of your life. And then I saw how you followed me… saw, heard and realized things about me that you had never considered possible; saw me in a different light. You were intrigued at first, curious. And then you…”

“Yes?”, Harry rasped out, urging the blonde on.

“Then you fell for the person you found me out to be; no matter our past and my sins. You really do love me.”

There was pure wonder in Draco’s voice and Harry could only smile widely.

“And I plan to keep convincing you”, Harry promised as he bent down to kiss his miracle.

* * *

 

Harry’s knees hurt. There was a strange feeling of _something_ heavy about his mouth and there was something warm and… pulsing? His jaw hurt and he was fighting back the urge to choke. He should be panicking, but he wasn’t. He was concentrated, waiting for…

“Harry!... Fuck… _Merlin_!”

Harry looked up. The heavy, warm and pulsing thing in his mouth was Draco’s cock as Harry had kneeled between his spread and trembling legs, pleasuring his Veela. Draco had thrown his head back in pure ecstasy, panting harshly, lost in his own passion. His trembling fingers clutched the cushions desperately. Harry frowned. That didn’t feel right. He grabbed one of Draco’s hands, making the blonde look down, confused, before Harry pointedly put the Veela’s hand on his raven locks. Draco looked hesitant for a second, but then Harry sucked harder, deeper and the blonde tossed his head back, moaning obscenely, fingers threading in midnight black hair, pulling hard when Harry sucked harder.

“Harry…!”, Draco called, suddenly sounding panicked.

Harry wasn’t. He nodded minutely, looking at Draco’s eyes. The blonde cried out, white light bursting from his back, blinding Harry with the force of…

“Wake up, lazy ass. A fine ass, I must admit, but still…”

Harry frowned, shading his eyes from the bright sun as Draco pulled back the thick drapes in the sitting room. Sitting room? Harry looked down at the book on his lap. Ah, right…

Draco sat on the edge of the sofa and smiled down at his Mate. There was something careful in his expression and his voice was soft when he asked,

“Did you have a nightmare? You were tossing around, so I thought…”

“It wasn’t a nightmare”, Harry rasped out and moved the book aside. Draco looked down, blushing adorably, as if he hadn’t led Harry to a few orgasms already.

“Oh.”

“Mhm”, Harry nodded.

“Was… was it me? That you dreamed of, I mean.”

“Mhm”, Harry smiled.

Draco smirked cockily. “Was I good?”

Harry looked down pointedly at his tented jeans. “Take a wild guess.”

Draco chuckled, shaking his head. Taking advantage of his distraction, Harry sat up quickly and pushed Draco until his back hit the back of the sofa and the blonde was comfortably seated. Harry smiled slowly and, without breaking eye contact, spread Draco’s legs and kneeled between them. The Veela’s breath hitched.

“Harry. What are you doing?”, he whispered.

“Recreating my dream”, Harry answered, slowly unzipping Draco’s trousers. Harry pulled and the Veela arched up gracefully until the finely tailored garment pooled around his ankles. Draco’s damn boxer briefs were Harry’s next target, but there was something else obscuring his view.

“Take your shirt off”, Harry ordered. He was pleased when Draco didn’t bother with buttons and just pulled it over his head, tossing it somewhere, too turned on to give a damn where it landed. Stormy eyes looked down at Harry, narrowing speculatively.

“You look far too smug, Harry Potter”, Draco observed.

“Because I’m the only one who’s ever seen you like that. The only one who _ever will_ ”, Harry’s own voice was hoarse; he was painfully hard, but that wasn’t important, not now. “You’re mine.”

Draco’s breath hitched again. “Yeah…”, he whispered.

“Say it”, Harry’s breath was hot over the wet spot on Draco’s boxers.

“Yours”, Draco moaned.

“What was that?”

“Yours!”, Draco cried.

“You don’t convince me. Try harder.”

“You’re a cruel man…”, Draco whimpered, playing along.

“Hmm? Cruel would be to leave you here, turned on and fucking leaking… and to forbid you to finish what I started.”

“Harry…”, Draco panted.

“Do you want me to help you, Draco? Do you want to come for your Mate?”

“Yes!”, the blonde sobbed.

“Convince me.”

“It has to be you. It’s always been you. The… the first time I jacked off… the Dreams hadn’t even started yet… ”

“Were we still at Hogwarts?”, Harry asked, mesmerized.

Draco bit his lips. Harry waited.

Draco nodded.

Harry wanted to scream in triumph. He smirked slowly.

“Were you alone in your dorm room… with your uniform unbuttoned and ruffled… with your cock so hard in your hand… trying to imagine someone else do it to you, some girl… But it didn’t work, did it?”

Draco shook his head. “It had to be you… you…Harry, please!”

Harry finally conceded, pulled down Draco’s briefs and took a second to appreciate how desperate for him his Veela was before he bent down and licked a long line from Draco’s balls to the tip of his cock. And then he sucked the tip into his mouth, sucking experimentally. The taste was spicy and a little salty; the feeling of having a mouth full of another guy’s hard, hot and pulsing cock was weird, in disturbingly intriguing way. Harry felt himself getting really into it as he listened to Draco moan and fight for each breath, fighting to keep himself still, to keep himself together.

Harry couldn’t allow that.

He sucked harder.

Draco threw his head back, just like in the dream, and dug his hands in the pillows. Just like in the dream, Harry moved those hands into his hair. Draco’s fingers twitched, but the blonde seemed hesitant to really hold on to Harry’s locks. Until Harry braced himself, opened up his throat as far as he could and took his Veela deeper.

“Merlin!”, Draco cried helplessly, now pulling hard on Harry’s hair, holding on for dear life. Not stopping for a second, Harry looked up, locking eyes with Draco, waiting for it, demanding it…

“ _Harry_!”, Draco howled, coming hard, his wings bursting in white blaze from his back. Harry remembered to focus on swallowing, quickly, as best as he could, instead of staring slack jawed at his Veela’s wings. He managed to swallow most of it, barely aware of the soft ruffling of feathers as Draco slid out of his mouth and collapsed into his lap. Harry winced and bit back a pained moan as his painful erection was crushed between them while he gathered his recovering Veela in his embrace. As if sensing that, Draco’s still trembling fingers crawled into Harry’s jeans, wrapped firmly around his cock and tugged. Harry bit his lip to stifle his moan.

“You don’t have to…”

“Do you want me to stop?”, Draco asked, sounding tired with a hint of irritation for Harry’s misplaced nobility. 

“No”, Harry admitted.

“Then shut up with your Gryffindor martyr complex”, Draco ordered, making Harry smirk before he let out a long moan.

It took only a few firm tugs for Harry to come in his pants like a damn teenager with his smug and content Veela still on his lap. They enjoyed a few minutes of basking in silence; Harry slid his hand in soft feathers but Draco hissed and pulled back his wing a little.

“They’re… very sensitive”, he admitted. “Don’t stroke them when I’ve just come.”

Harry hummed, storing away that information, before something else came to his mind.

“Draco?”

“Hmm?”

“Just once, will you wear your Slytherin scarf to bed?”

Draco tensed for a second and in that tiny moment Harry feared he had gone too far. But then the blonde burst laughing, called him ‘a perverted Auror’, laughed some more at Harry’s indignant expression and then conceded and promised that he’d wear his whole uniform.

* * *

   

A week in Paris suddenly seemed too short for Harry; their vacation was almost over and he didn’t want to go back home to his duties. Their sweet escape to a country where no one knew them had spoiled him and he was that close to sending an application for another week off.

“We can’t hide in France forever”, Draco said when Harry expressed his feelings. “That, and I want to brag”, he said bluntly, smiling when Harry rolled his eyes. “You just don’t really get it. Getting Mated is a big deal for a Veela. You’re so consumed by it, so overjoyed that you want to share your happiness with everyone, to scream it from the rooftops.”

Draco’s smile became softer as he added, quietly, “Ever since I became an adult, I’ve always wondered how it felt. Now I know and it’s beyond anything I’ve ever imagined; better, stronger…”

He looked up when he was met with a prolonged silence and noticed his Mate’s thoughtful gaze. “What? You seem surprised”, Draco observed.

Harry shrugged. “I thought you’ve always been somehow prepared for it. Since your Veela blood manifested when you were eleven.”

“I was just a child, a stupid brat. I didn’t fully understand the meaning of a Chosen. Back then, it seemed to me like someone else had chosen that person for me, some force I had no control over, no say in the matter, no actual _choice_ ”, Draco smiled condescendingly. “That’s how it looked to me back then.”

“And now?”, Harry asked tentatively.

Draco looked like he was choosing his words carefully. “It’s true that I felt drawn to you. But in reality, my Veela genes, my instincts just told me that you were everything I looked for as a _man_ ; you are everything that I, as a Wizard, look for in a partner. It didn’t feel like someone else had chosen you for me. I chose you with everything that I am.”

“So it didn’t feel like a sentence for life?”, Harry smirked.

Draco smiled, shaking his head. “When you accepted me, it felt like a miracle.”

* * *

 

Draco insisted that it was a matter of good manners that they meet their local friends at least once more while they were in France. Harry had to agree – Draco saw Pierre and Claude rarely, it was normal that he wanted to spend some more time with them. He let Draco choose a cozy restaurant and on that very same night found himself under Pierre’s scrutiny.

“I see you’re claimed”, the small blonde declared, making Harry blush and hastily grab his glass of water, “but you’re still not”, Pierre nodded towards Draco. “How come?”

“That is between me and my Mate, Pierre. You do not want to cross that line”, Draco said, eerily calmly, staring unblinkingly at his friend.

“I was just saying…”, Pierre began.

“More than you had to”, Draco bit out.

“Excuse him, please”, Claude interrupted while his lover and Draco were having a now quiet staring contest. “He sometimes behaves like a brat.”

Pierre huffed, rolling his eyes, conveniently breaking eye-contact with Draco.    

“Figures. I was still a brat when you started dating me.”

Due to his dark skin, it was harder to see when Claude blushed, but his smile was a bit forced and dangerous when he smiled brilliantly at his partner and said with a saccharine tone,

“I see you have not grown up much since then, _love_.”

Pierre huffed again and turned to pester Draco some more. Claude shook his head fondly and his eyes focused back on Harry.

“I could use some fresh air while these two bicker. Join me?”

Harry nodded, smiling at Draco, who glanced at him in silent question before he smiled back and turned his attention back to Pierre. Harry and Claude walked out of the small restaurant and Draco’s friend sighed as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He offered some to Harry, but the Auror shook his head.

“I don’t smoke”, he said.

“Neither did I, until I met him”, Claude nodded towards the restaurant’s window where they could perfectly see how Draco and Pierre became more and more passionate and loud in their arguing.

Harry smirked. “He’s a lot to handle, hm?”

Claude smiled affectionately. “And worth every damn effort.”

“He’s right about that, though”, Claude suddenly said, looking straight back at Harry’s eyes. “He had no right to comment on it, but he’s right. And I’m only telling you this, because I honestly think you have no idea about the situation and you have the right to know every aspect of it.”

Harry frowned. “I don’t…”

“He’s an unclaimed Veela, Harry”, Claude said softly. “You know how rare they are these days, but do you have any idea of the craze, the lengths some people would go to for the sheer possibility to come close with one of his kind?”

Harry’s jaw clenched. There had always been people who were obsessed with the idea of power and beauty, in any form. And Veela were famous for both things.

“That aside, he’s a good looking man. Even if it wasn’t for his Veela genes, even to the people who have no idea of his blood heritage. Take a good look, Harry. Look closely.”

Harry did. Now that he observed carefully, he wondered how he hadn’t noticed it earlier. Their waitress seemed to hover mostly around their table, even though she was responsible for at least three more; the man on the next table was drinking Draco with his eyes; two more men at the bar were all but drooling, staring at _his_ Veela. He remembered Clara Lewis’s warnings about Annie, Laura, Sophie and Mike. Harry’s fists clenched. Claude smirked knowingly next to him.

“I see you get it now.”

Harry turned back sharply. “All those people could be watching both of them.”

Claude’s smirk became smug. “Then they’ll also see the hickey on Pierre’s neck and the ring on his finger”, he winked and walked back inside, leaving Harry quietly fuming in the warm evening.

* * *

 

“I can’t believe it’s been a whole week”, Draco said from the adjoined bathroom to their bedroom in the chateau.

“Yeah… me neither”, Harry muttered sadly, staring at the pristine white canopy. They had to leave tomorrow. They had to go back to England, back to their jobs… back to Annie, Laura, Sophie and Mike. Harry’s jaw clenched again.

“While we’re still here in France… there’s something more I want to share with you”, Draco said. His quiet voice pulled Harry out from his musings and the Auror looked just in time to see his Veela enter the room with somewhat hesitant little steps. Harry opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but his words were lost as soon as Draco’s pale silken robe fell to the floor.

The blonde stood there, in all his naked glory, looking pale and nervous and shy as if Harry hadn’t already seen him this bare. But Harry understood. He recognized the offer for what it really was.

Just yesterday he could have said that Draco didn’t need to do that, there was no need to hurry. But that was before Claude opened his eyes. The monster inside Harry’s chest roared wildly.

Now. He was going to _claim_ his Veela.

* * *

 

Being inside Draco was something Harry could never hope to explain. Words failed him, experience hadn’t prepared him for what it was like to be the aggressor in _this_ relationship, to take instead of being taken. He finally understood why Draco had taken so absurdly long time to prepare him when he had been on top; the responsibility Harry felt now, the fear that he might hurt the man who had given himself so fully to him, and without any trace of previous reservations, squeezed Harry’s chest tight, made him hold his breath and _listen_ for every small hitch in Draco’s breath. He had to listen carefully, had to determine every small moan: was that a good “aah!”, or a “fuck, that hurt ah”? Was Draco trembling in a good or a bad way?

It was even harder for Harry as he couldn’t see Draco’s face since the blonde was on his stomach – they had decided that it was the best possible position, the easiest for the blonde since it was Draco’s first time and he needed space to spread his wings when he came.

Hopefully…

Draco’s whole body, sleek with lotions, lube and sweat, slid on the silken sheets, making Harry come up with bad puns of snakes and Slytherins, and then lose his mind completely as Draco writhed some more. And then Harry must have done something right and hit the right place because Draco’s back arched beautifully and the Veela cried out in a way that even Harry couldn’t mistake: it was pure pleasure.

“Harry… Harry…!”, Draco mewled as if searching for guidance, asking for help, seeking that one final touch…

Harry didn’t know what made him do it; maybe just being with Draco had made him develop instincts to know what his Veela needed, maybe he had just become as possessive as the Veela himself. He couldn’t explain it. His need to _claim_ and _Mark_ was stronger than him and he knew, he just knew that it was what Draco _wanted_.

Harry rubbed his face on Draco’s neck in some primal need to scent and mark even more, ever further. He thrust back right into Draco’s sweet spot, curled his fist around Draco’s pulsing flesh and bit down hard onto Draco’s neck.

Draco’s whole body arched again, beyond what Harry thought possible; it looked like a string, pulled to its final capacity. Sharp talons dug into the silken sheets, shredding them into long ribbons as Draco’s voice echoed in one long, drawn out moan, just on the verge of a desperate cry. The wings burst around Harry, trembling as Draco shook and half-sobbed from the force of his own orgasm, inevitably causing Harry’s climax as well as his walls clenched around him. Harry pressed his lips to Draco’s now rough and bitten skin and moaned helplessly as he held his Veela while Draco came.

They collapsed on the bed in the same moment, spent and panting, dizzy and lightheaded. Draco’s wings flapped and spread awkwardly around them on the mattress and on both sides of the bed. Harry thought it must be uncomfortable for the blonde and tried to move, even boneless as he felt, meaning to rearrange them in some other, more comfortable position. Draco groaned and took Harry’s hand in his own, still trembling one.

“Stay”, he said simply.

Harry did.

* * *

 

It was kind of funny to try and determine who was more eager to show off Draco’s newly acquired Claim mark. Harry was just thinking of ways to suggest that Draco wear something with a lower cut neckline, when Draco showed up with a V-neck so obscenely showing his Claim that it would have been hilarious if it wasn’t… soothing. Harry’s inner monster purred, approving. Harry himself made sure to hold Draco’s hand as they made their way to the Portkey station; it had to be quite obvious just who had put that mark on Draco’s neck.

Pierre and Claude grinned so hard that they looked like twin Cheshire cats.

“Sooo…”, Pierre leered, wiggling his eyebrows.

“No, we shall not discuss the obvious”, Draco said.

Pierre groaned. “You are too British for your last name! I swear to…”

Harry tuned them out as Claude got closer and patted him on the back.

“You always seemed like a clever guy”, he winked. Harry smiled back, not bothering to hide that he was too pleased with himself.

Even a five hour trip with a Portkey couldn’t suppress that.

* * *

 

Going back to work on Monday could though.

The helplessness and misery that a pile of paperwork could cause were clearly reflected on Ron’s face. The redhead looked tired and a few years older when he looked up to meet Harry’s eyes and tried to force a smile on his face.

“Hey, buddy. How was the holiday?”

Even Ron’s voice sounded hollow and Harry’s Auror instincts suggested that it wasn’t only from overworking.

“It was… great. Ron, are you okay?”

“Yeah…”, the other Auror nodded. Then he heaved a sigh and looked Harry directly in his eyes. “While you were gone… Ginny came looking for you.”

Harry frowned – that was unexpected.

“What for?”

“I think you need to talk to her, Harry.”

“Your sister was the one who ended it between us. I thought she wanted a clean break.”

“I know, buddy, and I don’t think she really wants you to get back together, just… Talk to her. As soon as you can.”

“Okay”, Harry frowned again, turning around with the intention of using a Ministry owl and invite Ginny to stop by their house – there was no way that Draco would be thrilled to let his Mate meet his ex without him present as well.

“Harry?”, Ron called. Harry turned back. “Just… whatever Ginny tells you… know that I wasn’t aware of it either. I swear to you. I hope that doesn’t hurt our friendship.”

“What-…”

“Just talk to her.”

Harry shook his head and went to find an owl.

 


	13. News from the past

Ginny Weasley took a deep breath and tried to remember why it was for the best that she just gather her strength and dignity and knock on the damn door. It wasn’t like she had done anything wrong. It wasn’t like she meant to do anything wrong, either – she wasn’t there to break a happy couple. Oh, Merlin, that’s exactly what Malfoy was going to think, right!?

Well, she wasn’t here to do that. She was here to do what was right. Right?

She cleared her throat and finally knocked.

Almost as soon as her small fist touched the door it was swung open and a blond man stood there, his expression carefully arranged into cold politeness. But Ginny was no fool – she noticed Malfoy’s nervously clenched fists and the way he seemed to try to suppress something, probably the famous Veela possessiveness.

And then his look fell lower, just on what Ginny was here to discuss.

His gray eyes widened impossibly. He stepped back, looking like he was suffocating. His right hand sought support, in something, anything, clawing wildly at the wall as he fought to remain standing.

“Draco”, Harry’s voice called, sounding like he was getting closer as he spoke, “Come on, invite her-… Draco!”

Harry rushed, just on time to catch the falling hyperventilating Veela. Panicked green eyes turned back to Ginny and widened, just like Malfoy’s.

Ginny’s small hands slid around her round stomach and her own eyes watered as she said with a small voice,

“I’m so sorry…”

* * *

 

“I was already close to the third month when I found out. We were over. You were with Malfoy and I…I didn’t know how to tell you…”

“So you hid it from me three more months?”

She had told him that she was in the sixth month already. Harry had been speechless and let her talk, but right now he couldn’t take this any longer.

“Three months, Ginny. It’s my _child_ we’re talking about.”

“I know. And I am sorry. This is why I’m here right now. I don’t… I don’t expect anything from you. I don’t imagine that we will get back together, I don’t even expect an allowance or anything. I don’t need money and I’ll… manage raising it on my own. I just… I just thought that you really had the right to know, no matter how difficult it would be for me o-or… I hope… Merlin!”, Ginny sobbed. “I should go. I’m sorry I came like that. Could you… I mean, will you apologize to _him_?”

“Stay.”

Ginny’s head snapped in the direction of the faint voice and so did Harry’s shocked eyes. Draco stood at the door to the living room, looking tired and like he carried all the sorrow in the world on his shoulders.

“You two should talk”, the blonde said. “Because no, you will not raise this child alone. Harry… Harry has always wanted a child and it’s not like I… can… give him any, so…”

“Draco!”

“Malfoy, I’m not here to try and take Harry back from you, I swear…!”

The Veela shook his head. “I know. But I, on my part, would never deprive a child of one of their parents.”

“Draco, what are you…! We’re not done, we’re not over…!”, Harry’s voice became louder as his heart skipped a few beats, bile rising in his throat.

Draco smiled in a way that looked so pained that Harry visibly winced. “I know. I’m… grateful for that. And for as long as you still want me, I’m not going to leave this relationship either. But. You two need to work things out and… And I need some space. I need some time.”

* * *

 

Ron looked nervous when Harry stepped into the office the next day. Harry remained silent as he went to his desk, sat on his otherwise comfortable chair and stared blankly at his usual paperwork.

“I swear I didn’t know…”, Ron began, but Harry wasn’t in the mood to listen.

“I know. She told me so”, he said.

Ron was still anxious. It was obvious he was trying to give Harry some space, tried to be quiet and understanding, but he was also Ginny’s older brother and there were questions he needed to ask.

“So will you…accept… I mean, will you acknowledge…”

“Yes.”

Ron tried to be subtle, as much as he even could, as he exhaled in relief. But then, his best-friend-worry still wasn’t satisfied.

“And… Malfoy?”

Harry opened his mouth, but just then the door burst open and Hermione rushed in. Her eyes widened when she saw Ron and she barely stifled a gasp. The redhead took that the wrong way. His lips tightened and he looked away, muttering,

“I’ll go get some coffee. We’ll talk later, Harry.”

“No, Ron, wait, I mean I could…”, she began, but he just shook his head and walked out.

Harry sighed. “I’d worry and nag you to talk to him, finally, but it seems I have more than enough on my own plate.”

Hermione ignored the first part of the sentence and sat down on the edge of the chair opposite from Harry.

“I just heard about… Are you okay?”

Harry snorted. “No, Hermione, I am not okay. My ex comes back, pregnant in the sixth month, suddenly having decided that I needed to know that I’m about to become a father, and the man I am Mated to disappears Merlin knows where, vaguely saying that he needs time.”

She visibly cringed. “I’m sorry. Stupid question.”

“Your first, probably”, Harry noted grimly.

She smiled slightly, “You forget that one time I asked where to find some wood to light a fire and kill a Devil’s Snare.”

Harry snorted again, finally cracking a small smile.

“So… you have no idea where he’s gone?”

Harry shook his head. “He said he needed space. I should respect that.”

Hermione sighed. “Look, Harry… When the war was over I also said I needed to be left alone, right?”

Harry nodded. He remembered that: she had just broken up a relatively new, but seemingly blossoming relationship with Ron and suddenly withdrawn from everyone without giving any explanation, demanding seclusion. Thinking it was what she needed, Harry had agreed.

“But now, looking back… I was wrong”, Hermione said, surprising Harry. She twisted the fingers of her left hand and looked away into seemingly nothing. “I thought I needed time for myself, to think and face my problems alone, but it wasn’t the best answer; I know that now.”

Harry felt like he needed to say something, offer her some comfort or just a shoulder to lean and cry on now, since he hadn’t been there before (even if she had been the one to forbid him so). But before he could say anything, she went on.

“The reason I’m telling you this now is because I think Malfoy needs you as well. No matter what he said.”

Harry’s jaw clenched. That had been the last little push he had needed to do just that: to find his Mate and go to him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, all of you guessed right and she is pregnant (and it was all so overly dramatic, uh). You smart kiddos, you :D She is not going to be the "bad guy" though and there is not going to be any bashing on her part. I promise they will all figure it out like adults :)


	14. Origins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the great reviews! This chapter contains Veela lore (or so I have tried ;))

The man walked out from the photographic studio, laughing along with his colleagues. He was a handsome guy, Harry had to admit – dark hair, pale eyes, tall, obviously taking care of his body. He looked a little like him, Harry realized with a pang. As the tallest of the group, he was the one to pull down the security blinds and lock up. The group seemed to be headed for the pub right next to them and tried to coax him to go with them, but the man declined, waved a goodbye and walked off in the direction of his car. Harry followed him quickly.

“Stephan Ivanov?”, he asked.

“Да?”*, the man turned around. His brows furrowed in thought then he smiled slowly. “Well, I’ll be damned. Harry Potter.”

“I’m looking for Draco”, Harry cut to the point.

“Hmm”, the man nodded thoughtfully. He nodded towards the car. “Hop in.”

Almost as soon as the car was started, Stephan pulled out a pack of cigarettes, picked one and offered the rest to Harry. He shook his head. Stephan smiled.

“Right. You don’t smoke.”

“I’m considering it”, Harry muttered darkly.

Stephan shook his head, still smiling, driving with ease.

“Where are we going?”, Harry asked.

“My place”, the man said.

“Is Draco there?”

“Nope.”

“Then…?”

“You’re spending the night. Obviously.”

“I told you I’m here for…”

“Yeah, I got that already.”

“Do you even know where he is?”, Harry asked exasperatedly – Bulgarians were so difficult and sassy!

“Yep.”

Harry waited a second. Nothing. He heaved a sigh.

“Well?!”

“He’s in a place on a few hours’ drive from here. In a place where normal men shouldn’t go after dark.”

“Normal men? As in…?”

“Non-Veela men. Doesn’t matter Wizards or Muggles”, Stephan winked, smiling wickedly.

“What’s that place?”, Harry couldn’t hide his worry.

Stephan grinned. “Strandzha mountain. Where Veela come from.”

* * *

 

They were driving through small, cozy villages and big cities on the coast line with gigantic hotels and aqua parks; on big boulevards and small, wrecked and forgotten roads through the woods. Harry felt like he was dreaming. He had spent the night on Stephan’s couch and had been woken up early with strong coffee and French toast. They had to hit the road early because Stephan didn’t want to end up lost in the woods after dark.

“You seem pretty scared of these woods”, Harry noted.

Stephan chuckled. “Let me tell you about Veela origins. First off, the beautiful women you saw at the Quidditch World Cup and whom you know as Veela, are direct _descendants_ from the forest sprits that are called вили** here – beautiful creatures that look like women with wings. Sounds familiar so far, right? They, on their part, are related to what we call самодиви***. Some say they are one and the same and only some of them have wings, or only sometimes _show_ them. Legends aren’t very clear on that.  However, what all legends agree on, is that all these forest spirits are very fierce and strictly female. Sometimes they choose to mate with a mortal man, one who dares to go in the woods after dark. If he sees them dancing in their sacred circle they either capture him and make him dance with them forever… or they kill him. Killing is more common, you see. That’s why Veela babies like Draco and his ancestors are _very_ rare.”

Stephan smiled. “Dragons, or as they are called here – змейове****, are also popular in our mythology. Some say that they used to kidnap beautiful virgin girls and mate with them.” He looked at Harry. “Don’t you find that Draco is a strange name for a British kid, even one with French roots?”

“Your point?”, Harry asked.

Stephan shrugged. “Maybe in his case the dragon kidnapped a forest spirit. She had a child. But she had to go back to her sisters in the woods – they aren’t really good mothers. So she left the baby – half-Veela, half-dragon on the doorstep of a family who had no children. They raised the kid, who grew up… to marry a wealthy French person.” Stephan grinned again. “Voila!”

“That’s just theories”, Harry muttered.

“Most of Draco’s origins are just that”, Stephan nodded. “He can trace his bloodline back to the first Malfoy ever, but what we’re talking about here doesn’t end up written in books and archives, even ones as old and detailed as the Malfoy’s.”

* * *

 

Harry was lost in thoughts when they stopped for coffee and some snack. He was pulled back to earth when Stephan handed him a jar with something thick and white and a spoon.

“What’s that?”, Harry asked.

“That, my friend, is real Bulgarian yoghurt or, as we call it – цедено кисело мляко*****. We’re pretty famous with it”, he added modestly.

Harry tried it. It tasted strange, milky but kind of sour, but it was fresh and nourishing.

“It’s nice”, he admitted.

“Try this”, Stephan smiled, opening another jar with amber liquid and pouring it over Harry’s yoghurt. “And that’s real honey. No chemistry.”

Harry was quite suspicious of how those two favors would combine. But as he tried the strange concoction while Stephan watched him impatiently he heard himself moan,

“Dear fucking Merlin!”

Stephan laughed.

“Told you so!”

* * *

 

Harry must have fallen asleep for a while because when he next opened his eyes they were in the middle of a small village and Stephan was just parking the car. A few people were gathering wood for what seemed to be preparations for a bonfire. It looked to be right in the center of the village and circled with rocks to prevent the fire from spreading.

“Where are we?”, Harry muttered.

“Bulgari”, Stephan said, looking both proud and thoughtful.

“Why are they about to start a fire in the middle of it?”, Harry asked, nodding towards the people gathering wood.

Stephan chuckled. “Well, when the night falls… they are going to dance in it.”

Harry blinked blankly. “In the fire?”, he asked flatly.

“Right on the smoldering embers. Barefooted”, Stephan smirked.

“Are-are they Wizards?!”, Harry asked, now wide awake.

“Nope”, Stephan’s smile widened. “They are called нестинари******. Let’s go find us a place to stay. Or, more to the point, find _me_ a place for the night. I bet we’ll meet Draco by the fire tonight. And I’ll bet you’ll be spending the night with him”, he winked.

Harry remained silent. He sure hoped so.

* * *

 

After finding Stephan a place for the night they spent the few hours of daylight sightseeing with Stephan introducing Harry to the magic of Strandzha. Obviously, it was a place of myths and legends, of non-magical people doing impossible things like dancing in the fire, very much like the first, wild Veela Stephan had told him about.

When night fell they went back to the center of the village. The fire had been burning for a while, it seemed, because it was reduced to the smoldering embers Stephan had mentioned earlier. A few women in traditional Bulgarian costumes were preparing to step right on the embers; they took their shoes off. Harry noticed they were holding ikons.

“Whatever you see, stay calm”, Stephan warned.

The first woman stepped into the circle.

Harry moved unconsciously, ready to rush forward and grab her, take her out of there; she was going to burn herself badly, he knew what it was like to…

Stephan grabbed his shoulder and held him back.

“Easy there, Auror Potter”, he smirked and nodded back to the circle. “Watch.”

Harry did. The woman walked out on the other end of the circle, unharmed. Other women stepped in. They looked like they were in trance. All of them walked right on the embers, quickly and briskly, and walked out with no wounds. All of them seemed to be in that strange trance, all of them dancing with no sign of fear. Harry thought there might have been music, some strange enchanting music, but he couldn’t tell for sure. Because as his eyes followed the women stepping in and out of the circle, a familiar blond head caught his attention.

To his very last day Harry couldn’t explain the pull he felt; the rush of excitement, of pure need; he didn’t remember moving, didn’t remember Stephan’s worried cry, the gasps; he didn’t remember stepping into the circle, right on those very same smoldering embers and crossing it, eyes focused on wide stormy grey eyes. The connection between them felt very physical in that moment and Harry felt like there was an actual rope, wrapped around him, pulling him closer to Draco. His hands itched to grab him, hold him, never let him out of sight, ever again, never letting him roam unknown mystical mountains, ever!

Draco gasped, choking slightly.

“…can’t… can’t breathe…”, he wheezed.

Harry loosened his grip, but didn’t let go.

“Never, _ever_ … do that again!”

Draco’s hug tightened slightly and Harry felt the blonde nodding.

That was all the promise he was capable of giving right now and it had to work for Harry. It had to.

* * *

 

Their breathing was harsh and labored, feet tripping in their haste to get to the bed or even just horizontal, faster. Their hands clawed at each other’s clothes and if there was talon or two here and there Harry didn’t care. It had been only a week, but it suddenly felt like a lifetime.

The bed, when they finally reached it, was hard and uncomfortable, nothing like Draco’s monstrosity of a bed with its thick mattress and soft sheets; the blankets here were made of wool and were scratchy. They could have looked for a Portkey or even made one by themselves but they were in too much of a hurry. Draco had rented a room in a guest house and they had decided to spend the night there and leave Bulgaria in the morning.

Harry’s back hit the hard mattress and Draco straddled him; they were already naked from the waist up and the blonde’s hands quickly worked on Harry’s belt. There was something wrong, something off with the way Draco’s fingers shook. It wasn’t just the haste, he wasn’t nervous…

Harry’s hand caressed the Veela’s cheek and chin, trying to make the blonde look at him.

“Draco?”, he called quietly.

The blonde shook his head. It only made Harry more determined to look his Mate in the eyes.

“Look at me. Please.”

When Draco finally did his eyes were dark, clouded. Full of tears.

“Draco…?”, Harry sat up, on edge. “What is it? Talk to me.”

“’s stupid… Stupid… Veela blood…”, the man hiccupped, looking away, embarrassed.

“What? What is it?”

“I… I need to be able… t-to give you… children…”

Harry felt like someone had slapped him. He knew Ginny’s pregnancy wasn’t going to be an easy feat when he was Mated to a Veela, he knew it wasn’t going to be easy for Draco, but… What?

“If… I mean, okay. Yes, I would like to have kids with you. We can… I mean, we can adopt, whenever you’re ready”, Harry offered.

“No!”, Draco cried, shaking badly. “ _I_ need to be able to provide you with children. _Of our own_. Our _own_ flesh and blood.”

Harry blinked stupidly. He had to bite back the most obvious answer, because “I don’t see how that’s gonna work” wasn’t going to help Draco right now. Then, something else came to his mind.

“It isn’t your Veela blood”, he said.

Draco looked up, confused.

“Stephan told me the first, original Bulgarian Veela weren’t considered to be good mothers. Wanting or needing a family isn’t in your blood, Draco. It’s your own, personal choice.”

“I don’t see how that helps us”, Draco rasped.

Harry smiled. “I’d feel more comfortable to raise a child with you, knowing _you want it_ , rather than it’s just your Veela’s need to provide its Mate with yet another _thing_.”

Draco sniffled. “But I still can’t…”

Harry silenced him with a kiss.

“We’ll find a way”, he promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite what Harry thinks NOT all of us Bulgarians are difficult and sassy (I am though :P) All of the rest is true – there is a village Bulgari and they do have a tradition to dance on smoldering embers on the third or June :) I have tried to include the most basic and true Veela lore, but these ARE myths so they do vary in different parts of Bulgaria.  
> Another warning: this story will include mpreg elements so if that is not your thing you have been warned.
> 
> P.S. (edited) amira500000 asked for pronunciation of the Bulgarian words. Since s/he (?) is literally the only one who cared about the really important for me Bulgarian roots of this story, I have tried, as much as I could. I hope it works.
> 
> *da
> 
> **v-ih-L-ih - it's ih = E, like you'd sing it in the alphabet song :D
> 
> ***sa-mo-d-ih-v-ih - again, E, like in the alphabet song. Er... hard E? :DD
> 
> **** ugh. okay, here we go... z-m-ey-o-v-eh. It's plural of z-m-ey. I hope that works. Um, why don't you come to Bulgaria, I'll just say that face to face :D
> 
> ***** wow. right, here goes: tsedeno kiselo(h) mlyako ^^. Yay, gotta love Bulgarian :D
> 
> ****** nest-ih-nar-ih.


	15. Obsession

Draco’s sudden declaration and need of a child became an obsession as soon as they got back to Britain. The Veela became immersed in old books, papers, legends – anything involving the phantasmagoric idea of a man conceiving a child.

“Are you sure this isn’t all because of Ginny’s pregnancy? Are you sure you don’t just want to surpass her?”, Harry couldn’t help but ask.

Draco didn’t talk to him for a week.

After that he made it perfectly clear that while his idea might have been initially spurred by Ginny’s pregnancy, it had nothing to do with simply outdoing her. Draco wanted a kid. A Malfoy/Potter progeny.

“I think he has always wanted a child”, Narcissa told Harry. “And not just an heir of the Malfoy bloodline like his father always preached to him”, she shook her head at her husband’s folly. “Believe me, Harry, a mother knows best. And I’m sure that Draco has always wanted a child for the sheer joy, the pride of raising them. It was just… too soon to tell you that, at this stage of your relationship. Your bond was and maybe even still is too new, too fragile for such discussions.” She sighed. “Ms. Weasley’s pregnancy just urged Draco to act _now_. Not only to fulfill a dream you both share, but to _prove himself worthy of his Mate_.”

It was those last words that haunted Harry the whole day and on the way back home. That night he made love to Draco slowly and gently, promising him with every single move, every single caress, that _he was worthy_.

“I think you should let him try”, Hermione said when Harry told her about Draco’s new obsession. “Sometimes even just research makes you feel better. At least you haven’t admitted defeat yet.”

“You don’t think he’ll find anything”, Harry observed.

She shook her head with a sad smile. “No. _But_ he has resources most people can’t even dream of. And no, I don’t mean money. I mean knowledge. Family archives.”

Ron didn’t say anything. He just sat with Harry in the dimly lit bar, listening and ordering more Firewhisky.

* * *

 

That night when he went home Harry received a note from Ginny.

_“I have a check-up tomorrow. You can come.”_

Harry crumbled the note in his fist. He wanted to go. He wanted to hear more about his child, make sure they’re okay. But it would kill Draco either way, no matter if he tried to do this behind his Veela’s back, or told him in his face that he wanted to go.

There was no right choice.

* * *

 

“Will I have a problem with you?”, Ginny Weasley asked as she burst, or more like waddled, into Draco’s office.

Draco wasn’t in a mood for this – he was tired, his current case was promising to take up even more time and more reading without even being a real challenge and his private research wasn’t giving results yet.

“No. I will never storm in, uninvited, in your office, causing a problem”, he bit out.

Ginny scoffed and moved to sit.

“Yes, do take a seat, please”, Draco growled, turning back to his papers.

“Come on, Malfoy. It doesn’t have to be like that. I don’t want it to. And I’m trying, but you gotta help me.”

The blonde looked up, confused.

“What are you talking about?”

Ginny spread her arms helplessly. “This constant bickering…”

“It’s how I am.”

“And you may have this with Harry in a cute couple-ly way, but it sounds to _me_ like you really hate _me_!” She sighed. “Look, again, I promise you I am not trying to steal your Mate. So this is why I am asking you: are you going to be problematic and prevent Harry to see his child? Because I think it’s very egoistical of you to deny him to come to the check-up…”

“Hold up, what check-up?”, he asked confused.

Ginny’s face suddenly cleared. “Shit. I mean”, she blushed slightly, “I should have known. He hasn’t told you, because he didn’t want to hurt you. Right. Urgh, I’m so stupid. And hormonal! So, don’t mind me, I’ll just…”, she stood up awkwardly.

“Weasley”, Draco’s voice stopped her and she turned back to him. “I already told you once but I’ll say it again. I will never stop Harry from seeing and interacting with his child. I’ll… tell him to go to the check-up.”

It took a second, but Ginny smiled tentatively. “Thank you. You can… I mean, I wouldn’t mind if you come as we-”

“I’ll tell him to go. Don’t make me come too”, Draco said. It should have sounded harsh, but instead it came out as a soft, broken whisper.

“I’m not making you”, Ginny said, already by the door. “I’m just saying that you _can_. And I’m glad that you wouldn’t stand between Harry and this little fella”, she rubbed her stomach lovingly, “but that also means you’re going to be a part of his life as well.”

Draco blinked, dumbstruck for a moment, before something clicked in his mind.

“Weasley!”, he called. She turned back. “ _His_ life?”

She smiled and nodded. “Don’t tell Harry! Yet.”, she winked.

He nodded back and watched as the mother of his future step-son left his office.

* * *

 

Draco was reading, curled on the couch in front of the fireplace, when Harry got back home that night. They exchanged greetings but the blonde still hadn’t looked up from his book. Harry observed that for a while from the threshold to the living room, then walked in and dropped to his knees right in front of Draco, looking insistently at his Veela. Sighing, the man finally looked up and asked,

“Well?”

“It’s a boy”, Harry said.

The blonde nodded. “Congratulations. Or something? Is that only said when a child is actually born?”, he wondered, turning another useless page of myths and legends.

“There’s something I wanted to discuss”, Harry said, waiting for Draco to look at him again.

“Yes?”

Harry took a deep breath. “Surrogacy.”

 Draco blinked. “The he-..?”

“It’s when a surrogate mother…”

“I know what surrogacy is!”

It was Harry’s turn to be surprised. “You do?”

“I am not an idiot, Potter”, Draco snapped.

“I know. It’s just that it’s a Muggle… Well. I just thought this was a real chance for us to…”

“No.”

Harry felt like the blonde had slapped him. “No?”

“No. It is not an option for me - a woman whom we barely know to be impregnated with some clinically taken seed. I want a child that is a perfect mixture of _both_ of us, Harry, not a lucky swimmer, picked out from a probe, given by _one_ of us.”

Harry sat down on the floor, feeling defeated. He had really counted on that option. It had looked like the perfect solution.

“You’ve looked this up”, he noted.

Draco snorted. “I’m looking everything up.”

Harry shook his head. “Draco, you’re so… fixed on the idea of a perfect child, one that is just what you’ve always imagined, that perfect mix of _both_ of us, but… Maybe you have to accept the reality that this is just not an option for us.”

Draco looked at him with an ice cold glare. “I’m not settling for any child, just for the sake of having something that _resembles_ what I truly want.”

Harry sighed. He knew his Veela just well enough to know how stubborn the man was.

Draco was not going to give up.

* * *

 

“Okay. I’m going to ask what we have all wondered at a certain moment but don’t have the guts to say out loud: are we sure he doesn’t just want a pureblood baby?”, Ron mused over another glass of Firewhisky.

Harry scoffed. “I’m not a pureblood, remember? My Mom was a Muggleborn.”

Ron tilted his head in acceptance. “Right. But I was thinking more along the lines of… a child of his ‘pure blood’ and your Savior bloodline.”

Harry gritted his teeth. He wouldn’t risk another week of silence and sleeping alone by asking that.

* * *

 

Draco looked tired, frustrated and a little lost. He talked less and was more closed, moody and all around distant. Harry felt like they were slowly losing what they had fought so hard to achieve: the connection between them, the bond.

“Harry… don’t hate me when I say that, but… I think he feels like you don’t support him enough”, Hermione said carefully.

He frowned. “How so?”

“Well. You’re supposed to be in this together, fighting for a mutual cause, but… he looks like he’s the only one fighting.”

“Because he has disregarded my every suggestion! He has that… that perfect image in his head and is so fixed on it…!”

“Even so”, she insisted.

“You think I ought to encourage such impossible fixation?!”

She sighed. “Harry. He sees how you feel on the matter: you say you want to have kids with him, but not his way - you don’t help him, you don’t understand or even acknowledge his idea. You don’t believe in it. In him.”

“Of course I do!”

“Really?”

“Yes!”

She sighed again. “It’s not only that, Harry. You say you’re trying to start a family together, but you haven’t even properly introduced him into yours. He only communicates with me and Ron, and even in that case _he_ was the one, who initiated it. How about Andromeda and Teddy? His own cousin Teddy? How about the Weasleys?”

“Because… I mean, with Ginny and…. I don’t know how to…”

“He feels that, Harry. So don’t be so surprised that he’s so closed off and distant.”

Harry ground his teeth. He hated how right she was.

* * *

 

They drank their coffee in silence. Harry stared at the blonde but Draco avoided his gaze.

“I’ve been thinking… you don’t keep in touch with your aunt.”

It looked like Draco needed a moment to remember an aunt that wasn’t crazy and well, dead. He cleared his throat.

“My Mother and she have become quite distant. And, considering my family’s position in the war and how much our beliefs used to differ from Aunt Andromeda and her family…”

“ _Used_ to”, Harry pointed out, interrupting his Veela before he could lapse into one of his self-criticizing moods. “And, considering how much you’ve both lost, now’s the perfect time to reconnect. Family is family, Draco. And yours was partially mine, long before you and I happened.”

Draco finally looked up at him, confused. Harry smiled.

“You’re aware that you have a cousin named Teddy?”, he asked and waited for Draco’s nod before he continued, “Well, I’m his Godfather. And I’d like to introduce you to each other.”

The Veela looked stunned, looking at Harry with wide, unbelieving eyes. The silence stretched out and Harry’s smile wavered.

“Draco? Would you like that?”, he finally asked.

Looking down at the table to hide the plethora of emotions on his face, the blonde nodded again.

* * *

 

“There are a few things I should warn you about. He talks too much. Like, _a lot,_ even if you can barely understand him. He’s very energetic and will tire you down. He’s um… Metamorphmagus. Like his mother. He usually changes his looks after the newcomer, so don’t be surprised…”

Harry knew he was babbling, but he couldn’t really stop. He was nervous, but judging by the trembling of Draco’s hand, tightly clenched in Harry’s own, so was his Veela. The Auror hoped that his little speech had prepared Draco, because it seemed like that was all the warning he would get before the front door of the small house burst open and a cannonball launched itself at them, screaming “Ha’y!” from the tops of its lungs.

As the child threw himself in Harry’s waiting arms, almost knocking them both backwards, Draco noticed he also had black messy hair. But as he looked at him over Harry’s shoulder the Veela felt himself gaping as the kid’s dark hair slowly paled to blond and his green eyes became the same shade of silver as Draco’s own.

Teddy smiled brilliantly.

“Hello! I’m Teddy”, he introduced himself with his bell-like voice.

Draco cleared his throat. “Hello, Teddy. I’m Draco.”

The boy’s dimpled smile faded a little. “G’anny said I have a cousin D’aco”, he mused with a calculating look in his grey eyes.

The blonde forced a nervous smile. “That would be me.”

Teddy’s little frown hadn’t dissipated. Harry shook his head with a smile.

“He means _he is_ that cousin Draco. Teddy, this is your cousin Draco.”

“Oh!” Teddy’s smile was back. “This’s g’eat!”, he decided, easily moving from Harry’s embrace into Draco’s. Harry chuckled at the blonde’s stunned look.

“He’s… very sociable”, he said.

Draco’s arms hesitantly returned the hug, just as a tall shadow slid on the grass, making them all look up.

Andromeda Tonks looked every bit the aristocratic woman her maiden name suggested – her stance was proud and her features bore the beauty she shared with her sister Narcissa, Draco decided. She looked thoughtful, and a little like she was evaluating him, but her smile was soft when she greeted him with a simple,

“Hello, Draco.”

“G’anny, G’anny! It’s _cousin_ D’aco!”, Teddy jumped up and down excitedly.

Her smile widened as she nodded at her grandchild. “Yes, it really is him.”

Then she nodded towards the house. “Well, come on in. The tea is ready.”

* * *

 

Harry watched as Draco fidgeted and kept smoothing down his best robes and his hair. He was clean shaven, even though Harry liked a bit of scruff, and he had taken a calming draught. Harry heaved a sigh.

“This is ridiculous! You _know_ them! _They know you_!”

“Did you know me when we started this?”, Draco hissed.

“…well…”

“ _That’s_ what they know about me.”

“Godric, would you come in already!?”, Ginny’s annoyed voice boomed from within the house.

Harry took a deep breath and stepped inside, smiling back at everyone. Molly’s smile dimmed a little and she looked confused.

“Harry? Where’s…”

He turned around, saw he was alone, groaned and went back out to drag in his fidgeting Veela – who kept wrinkling and smoothing back the edges of his robe. Harry cleared his throat, encouragingly. Draco gulped dryly and finally looked up.

“H-hello”, he half-whispered.

“Well, what did you know? Turns out Malfoy _is_ a blushing virgin”, George grinned.

“George!”, Molly exclaimed, exasperatedly.

“What’s a virgin, Daddy?”, the little girl playing on the floor at George’s feet asked.

“And he does it again…”, Angelina Weasley muttered, grabbing her child and ignoring her husband’s apologetic smile. “Come on, Frederica, let’s see if there’s some of your Granny’s cake left.”

“Yay!”

“I, uh, I apologize for that! George Weasley, that was not the way I raised you!”, Molly chanted, chasing after her twice taller son with a slipper in her hand.

“Ignore them, she has always turned a blind eye for his antics, ever since he was a child”, Percy said haughtily as the blonde stared wide eyed.

“Ignore _him_ , he has always sought more attention”, Bill grinned at the stunned Veela while his own Veela wife smiled gently at Draco.

“Mom! Did I miss them?!”, Charlie stepped through the back door; his hair was messier than Harry’s, but Draco soon found there was a reason for that and it was literally breathing fire in the backyard.

“Charles Weasley! What did I say about dragons in my garden!”

Ginny, who was even more rounded and resting in the most comfortable armchair in the corner, heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes at Draco.

“Welcome to the family.”

* * *

 

Draco had just found a quiet corner of the Burrow, watching Harry and the Weasleys’ interaction from a safe distance, when he suddenly realized he wasn’t alone. He turned around and his eyes widened again when he saw the matriarch of the family watching him thoughtfully.

“You’re afraid of me”, Molly observed. “Or at least wary. Why?”

To be fair, “wary” applied to the Weasleys as well, when they were around the blonde. Wary, observing, evaluating. But _not hostile_. _That_ was the part that amazed him the most.

Draco shrugged, looking away when he gave an answer. “I stole your perfect possible son-in-law from your daughter.”

Molly chuckled. “Oh, dear! Now, that will sound incredibly arrogant but… no one dumps my daughter, even Harry Potter. _She_ broke up with him.”

He turned around, regarding her with a disbelieving look. Molly sighed.

“Did I imagine them together, married and with kids? Yes. Was I a little disappointed when that didn’t exactly happen? Yes. Was I blind enough to not see that it wasn’t working between them? No.”

She smiled kindly at his stunned face. “Ginny is a free soul. If she ever settles down, she’d want it to be with someone she could have a deep and passionate relationship with. Just the thing she has grown up seeing between her father and me.” She looked at him again, measuring him. “But that’s not all you worry about, is it?”

Draco gulped dryly, looking away again; he had not expected her to be so… insightful.

“My family has reputation…”, he began.

“ _My_ family and I tend to judge a person by their own deeds”, Molly argued.

“I’ve made big, stupid mistakes…”

“Most children do.”

“I let the Dark Lord’s followers, including my insane aunt, into the school…”

“I _killed_ your insane aunt”, Molly reminded with eerily calm voice.

 Draco felt tears stinging his eyes. “…You lost a son because of me…”

Molly was quiet for a second and when Draco finally dared to look up, her expression was thoughtful, carefully masking the pain she still felt while thinking of Fred.

“Were you the one who threw the death curse at my son?”, she asked quietly.

“No, but…”

“Did you willingly help the one who did?”

“No! There was always that impending threat of _him_ killing us and…”

“And you need to forgive yourself”, Molly said kindly, earnestly. “We don’t blame you; not after everything Harry told us at the trials. And when you blame yourself again, remember this: you’re not a murderer; **_you_** _lowered your wand._ ”

Draco felt the tears falling down his cheeks. But what he had never thought he would feel were Molly Weasley’s arms around him, calming him down.

“Harry is like my own son. If you’re important to him, then you’re important for this family too.”

* * *

 

It was probably quite naïve to think that a person like Draco would just drop an obsession like yearning for a child just like that, just because he was shown how big their family actually, already is. Harry admitted that he had been fooling himself if he had ever really believed that his Veela would just… give up.

He never would. Not for something like that.

He found Draco sitting by the fireplace in their living room; an old book, looking more like someone’s diary (Harry’s heart skipped a beat) was spread on his knees but the blond wasn’t reading anymore. He was dazing in the flames, a lone tear rolling down a pale cheek.

“Hey”, he called softly. Draco acknowledged him with a quiet ‘hm’, but didn’t turn around. “I thought you were spending the afternoon with Teddy…”

“They just left an hour ago”, Draco muttered, still looking at the flames.

Harry sat down on the floor in front of him and waited for his Veela to look at him. He did, with a sigh. He stared at Harry for a moment before more tears rolled down his face and a pained laugher was torn from his throat.

“It’s so ironic that it probably suits us just right”, he said bitterly, then took a deep breath a finally said it, “I found a way.”

Harry blinked dumbly. “What”, he croaked.

Draco nodded. “I found a way for us to have a biological child that has both our genes, our own flesh and blood.”

Harry gulped dryly, preparing for the blow. “But?”

There was always a ‘but’. Especially when your Mate cries.

Draco straightened in his chair, looking solemn. “I could fight for this chance in every court and will win. I am ready to fight for this child. But the one I’d have to fight with the most… is you. Because you would never let me even try.”

Harry frowned. “Why wouldn’t I…?”

Draco handed him the notebook. It _was_ a diary - Armand Malfoy’s. In it was described his own male Veela partner’s pregnancy with a child of both their blood.

“It took me a while to find out the truth. According to the _official_ Malfoy archives he was married to woman named Amelie. Turns out he quietly divorced with her and Mated a male Veela, Jean. And they had a son, my great-great-grandfather.”

Harry kept reading the diary, only half-listening. Because that story held nothing of the reasons for which Draco thought Harry would refuse to grant him and participate in his biggest dream. It was written in French, obviously, and the translation charm could only give him the main idea, but Harry got it.

“Blood bonding. Forbidden potion ingredients. Dubious chanting. This is bordering on Dark Magic. The Wizengamot…”

“I will fight the Wizengamot”, Draco said and Harry believed him.

And that’s when he finally got the whole picture – the only one Draco couldn’t win for his cause was _Harry_.

“ _You_ would never let this happen…”, Draco began with a raspy voice.

“Because it’s **way** too dangerous for _you_ ”, Harry finished.

He honestly didn’t give a fuck about any high court as long as his Veela was happy. And _alive_.

Draco laughed bitterly again. “Like I said, ironic. We want this child because we love each other. But you won’t let me even try because you love me too much…”


	16. Apex

Stephan was quite possibly right after all.

As Harry read Armand’s diary lots of things started to make sense, unbelievable as they had seemed just a few weeks ago. Jean, which was the French equivalent of the common Bulgarian name Ivan, turned out to indeed have Bulgarian roots. There was no picture of him, but Armand described him as blonde (like every Veela in Bulgarian folklore) and with strange, amber-yellowish eyes (like most dragons). Stephan’s theory suddenly seemed more and more plausible. 

They had named their baby Draco. That was the ancestor his Veela was named after, Harry now knew.

“I don’t want you to read that book”, the Draco of here and now said quietly.

Harry’s jaw clenched. “Because Jean died during childbirth?”

The blonde sighed. “Things have changed since then, Harry. We have the knowledge to prevent that.”

Harry shook his head. “You don’t know that. _Every_ childbirth is risky! How could you possibly promise me nothing would go wrong with _you_ when so many things can!?”

“This is ridiculous. We’re not in the Dark Ages…”

“It has never been done before!”, Harry couldn’t hold back as he raised his voice.

“It has been and you’re holding the evidence!”, Draco yelled back.

“He _died_!”, Harry hollered.

Draco sighed once again. “I’m tired of fighting with you”, he admitted quietly.

“I don’t want us to fight. But I am not going to participate as you risk your life for something that might not even work.”

Draco visibly winced when he said that and just turned and left the room without a word.

* * *

 

Harry scrambled the dinner on his plate without really eating. The silence was killing him. Draco hadn’t said a word for days and it was slowly driving him crazy. At the moment the blonde was just staring blankly at his plate – Harry wondered if he ate at all these days. He didn’t look paler or ill, but Harry hadn’t seen him grab a bite since forever. Just as he hadn’t heard his voice.

“Talk to me please”, he begged quietly. “Tell me something. Anything.”

Draco looked up and Harry’s breath caught in his throat. What would he say? _“I hate you?” “You ruined my dream?”_

“I had a name for him”, he just whispered, before his fork clinked loudly on the porcelain as he stood up and quickly left the room, as if Harry couldn’t see or couldn’t handle his tears.

What Harry couldn’t handle was knowing there were tears and he couldn’t stop them.

* * *

 

“Why don’t you understand me? I finally found you! Or, okay, _you_ found _me_ , and saved me back then, but you’ve been saving me ever since. Love and relationships, it has never worked before with anyone, not the way it feels with you, and I never knew it before I met you and got to know you and saw how it could be, how it _is_ with _you_! Just… why can’t you understand how much you matter!? Why don’t you get that I cannot lose you!?”

“I get that, Harry. But understanding it doesn’t make this situation any less painful.”

* * *

 

In retrospect, having his secretary dig up anything and everything on famous cases of dubious conceiving and ways of creating a new life that were bordering on Dark Magic, was a huge mistake. By that same evening the whole Ministry knew that Draco Malfoy was ready to do _anything_ if it granted him the dream child he wanted.

Having done that without consulting Harry first was an even bigger mistake.

“I was not going behind your back!”, Draco yelled back as Harry’s anger almost made the objects in the room vibrate with wayward magic.

“And how would you call that?! Another law strategy?!”, Harry raved. “The whole Ministry knew before me!”

“You knew I was not gonna give up!”, Draco screamed wildly. “How is that going behind your back!?”

Ron chose that unfortunate moment to Floo in their living room, landing right in the middle of the screaming match.

“And I told you that I do not agree with your stupid idea of risking your own life!”

“Well then, since you vehemently denied to participate, then what’s the problem with me doing research!?”

“Why do you need research in the first place if you will not act on your plans!?”

“Uhm”, Ron tried hesitantly. “I can come back later.”

“Stay!”, they both yelled, pointing a finger at him and making him freeze.

“Don’t you get it, just them knowing your weakness puts you at risk!”, Harry growled exasperatedly.

“Losing my mind while doing nothing puts me at even bigger risk!”, Draco countered.

There was loud banging on their front door and Draco went to answer it, all the while screaming back at Harry as the Auror didn’t stop arguing. All of that ceased as soon as the door opened to reveal a panting, wide eyed Hermione. The look in those huge eyes was wild, desperate and as soon as they shut up she rasped out,

“It is true?! Did you find a way?! Is it… is it really possible?!”

The desperate hope in her voice, in her eyes made it all clear.

“ _That’s_ why you broke up with Ron”, Harry whispered, stunned in the face of truth. “You found out that you couldn’t have a child and you just…”

“Let’s…!”, Draco raised his voice, ever the more mindful between the two of them. “Let’s not discuss that right now.”

Harry’s brow furrowed in confusion, only to be smoothed back in realization as Ron slowly stepped out of their living room. The expression on his face was unreadable as he stared right into his stunned ex.

“Is it true?”, he asked quietly. His blue eyes looked merciless as he waited for her teary nod before he nodded back curtly. “So, basically you just wanted me for my sperm. And when it was clear that it wouldn’t work, you just dumped my ass.”

She winced, looking both shocked and offended. “How could you say that?”, she sobbed.

“What else should I think?”, he shot back.

“Maybe that I wanted to spare you all this!”, she cried. “You come from a big family _, of course_ you would want one for yourself! Why would you stay with someone who’s… who’s… _defective_ …”

It was his turn to wince and step back. “How could _you_ say that?”, he whispered brokenly. “How could you just… make this decision on your own, steal that choice from me? That’s not how you do things when you’re in a relationship. You let me… you let me believe it was _my_ fault. That it was something _I_ did that broke us…”

That only made her cry even more, especially when he shook his head and stepped back into the living room and the Floo, even as she cried out his name, begging him to come back.

* * *

 

Ginny and the baby chose the worst moment.

(“ _For the last time, Harry, I **did not have a choice** on this matter_!”)

Harry and Draco hadn’t talked for four days after their last fight when one night a silver horse burst into their bedroom and Ginny’s slightly panicked voice informed them that her water just broke. Harry jumped, panicky dressing in whatever he found scattered around, turning wide scared eyes at his stunned Mate.

“Well?! Why aren’t you dressing!?”, he asked with a strange, slightly higher-pitched voice.

“I… probably shouldn’t…”, Draco tried, only to stop right there as Harry fell on his knees next to him.

“I will beg if I have to. Please. I need you.”

Draco gulped dryly and just nodded.

* * *

 

They both winced from yet another pained scream coming from the hall down the corridor in St. Mungo. Ginny had been in there for a whole age, obviously struggling with the little Potter. Draco’s hand was numb from where Harry was holding on to it for dear life, but he didn’t let go – that was all the comfort he could offer to his distressed Mate.

Ron was pacing up and down the hallway, flinching with every scream, feeling and looking like a caged animal.

“Couldn’t they at least give her some painkilling potion!?”, he growled, pulling on his slightly longer hair. That was his baby sister, for Merlin’s sake!

Molly just patted his shoulder with a small understanding smile.

“I told you you shouldn’t be here. That’s why I said the same to your brothers and your Dad. And they all listened, for once.” She shook her head fondly. “You’ve always been the most stubborn one.”

Ginny had been the one to insist that no one is in the room with her, demanding that she do this on her own (except for the Healers). All of them winced as another long cry echoed in the otherwise deserted hallway.

“It shouldn’t take much longer”, Molly said.

As if to prove her words the last scream died down and an eerie silence fell in the waiting room. A few minutes passed. The door opened and a Healer walked out smiling at them, holding a small bundle.

“Everyone”, she spoke quietly, but obviously proud of her medical efforts, “This is James Sirius Potter.”

Harry swayed. It was good that Draco was there to support him, because it was quite clear that his Mate was shocked and surprised by the name. And by the small chubby face with a patch of thick dark messy curls.

“He’s got your hair”, Draco joked.

Harry snorted, his eyes not leaving his son.

“Can I… can I hold him?”, he croaked.

“Of course you can, Daddy”, the Healer smiled, handing him the small bundle gently. “And go thank Mommy. She did great.”

Harry nodded dumbly, looking back at Draco. His Veela nodded with a smile that looked only a little bit forced.

“Go. Take your time. I’ll wait for you at home”, he said and watched as Harry nodded again and slipped back in Ginny’s room with James in his arms.

* * *

 

Harry soon found himself torn between spending time with his son and spending time with his Mate. James looked different to him with each new day and every single visit. Draco became more and more quiet and isolated – from Harry, from his Mother and his friends. Harry tried to coerce him into talking but it proved to be more and more difficult as Draco started giving shorter and shorter answers.

Ron was either angry and aggressive, venting in the training rooms to the point of collapsing, or depressed and melancholic, often staring into nothing with wistful blue eyes. Hermione rarely came out of her office and when she did her eyes were usually puffy and red rimmed.

Teddy was sad that his new favorite cousin was always unavailable to play these days. Andromeda shared a long, knowing look with Harry, not asking or pressing for details. She had gradually become closer with her sister, reestablishing a bond that had been broken for years, now sharing her worry for Draco.

Stephan called twice. Pierre wrote five times, sounding more and more annoyed with each letter. They got an owl from Tommy and a package with a small note from Tyron. All of those were unanswered.

Harry knew he was walking down the road of madness. It was only a matter of time till he reached his destination.

* * *

 

Draco chopped off his wavy hair into short blond spikes.

* * *

 

Something was wrong.

Harry’s Auror instincts were screaming at him that there was something wrong, something obvious he had to see, something right in front of him. He asked nothing, knowing he wouldn’t get an answer. He observed.

Draco looked gloomy, quiet and depressed, sure, but otherwise showed no signs of sickness. He had to be eating outside since Harry hadn’t seen him eat for the last… how many days? Weeks? But he hadn’t lost weight, didn’t look ill. He often slipped from their bed in the middle of the night, saying that he was going to the loo, or for some water, or whatever. He usually didn’t come back. Did he sleep at all? But he didn’t have dark circles under his eyes. His looks were impeccable as always.

And then he slipped.

More accurately, he tripped. Harry asked if everything was okay and the blonde waved him off – everyone tripped from time to time.

And then he swayed as he stood up from his desk.

And then in the middle of his closing speech during a tough case.

Harry had to clench his fists and fight with every instinct of his body to go, run down the few rows of seats in the courtroom and hold his Mate, calm him, make sure he’s okay. But Draco would never forgive him for embarrassing him like that. So Harry stayed put and tried to calm himself down, tried to keep still. Something clicked and a memory flashed in Harry’s brain.

_“I believe they told you I am not allowed even the simplest of magic, including Glamours. So, yes, Potter, this is how I look like when my Chosen rejects me.”_

He barely waited for the session to end (Draco won, of course) and the room to start clearing out as he ran down the rows of seats. Draco was the last one, gathering his files with slow, deliberate movements.

“Drop the Glamour.”

Draco looked up, wide eyed, and stared at his Mate. Even with the slight magic buzzing around him (how could he possibly miss that, Harry blamed himself) he paled considerably.

“ _Please_.”

Draco winced, looking away. It took a moment, barely a heartbeat or two.

The Glamour dissipated.

Harry ran and fell on his knees just as Draco started falling, collapsing in his arms. His skin was pale grayish, dark circles under dull grey eyes, chapped lips slightly parted as he took in shaky, raspy breaths, short blond hair looking paler and messier. He was so thin, so light! It looked like he had used all of his magic to just maintain the façade and now that it crumbled Draco was left shaking badly in his Mate’s arms.

“What have you done?!”, Harry whispered, half-sobbing. “What did _I_ do?!”

“Hey, no… It wasn’t you…”, Draco tried.

“Who else could have done this to you?! Who else has the power to…”, Harry’s arms shook as he held his Veela tightly, Alex’s words coming back to him: “ _It’s **the Mate** who can manipulate a Veela however they please. A Veela is totally dependent on them. Should they choose to, the Mate can literally crush their Veela._ ”

Harry closed his eyes, clenched them tightly.

“Okay. You win. We’ll try. Just! Just as long as it doesn’t kill you! ‘Cause I can’t… I just can’t…!”

“Hey, hey”, Draco’s hand patted his chin weakly, but he was smiling when he said. “Of course we’ll make it. We’re Potter and Malfoy. Defying all odds.”

Harry snorted, despite of his tears and bent down to kiss his stubborn Mate.


	17. Defying all odds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm. So. I was actually this close to stop updating this story and maybe even delete it after only one ... different comment. It wasn't even a bad comment, just pointing out some plot holes and mistakes. I'm still not sure what to do so let me know if you (too) lost any interest.

Harry stared at the pale gray sky and the vast meadows below. The sun was about to rise, but it was still quiet and calm and the morning dew smelled fresh and clean. Just a few weeks ago he would never believe he would be here right now…

_Harry was still terrified by the idea and he was not trying to hide it. But now, knowing that he was at least ready to listen, Draco did what he did best – he argued and reasoned._

_“Jean died because his plan was set a few decades too early. Back then, neither magic, nor Muggle science were as developed as they are now.”_

_“What does Muggle science have to do with all this?”, Harry asked, confused._

_“Now, that’s the tricky part. I’m going to combine Armand’s notes and Muggle medicine. See, Jean died because his body was weakened by the whole nine months of pregnancy. His body was not prepared, not meant to carry a child – at all, not to mention for such a long time. What we’re going to try is simple – we’ll use Armand’s notes for conceiving the child and once the fetus is stable, we’ll… well, for lack of better word, magically extract it, and put it in a kind of a magical incubator – that’s the idea I took from Muggle medicine. It’s still risky, I know, and we’ll have to ‘feed’ it with our magic to make sure it survives at such a vulnerable stage, but it’s possible, Harry, and if someone could do it it’s us!”_

That had been nearly a month ago. That’s when it had all began.

_Draco took a deep breath and walked into the round chamber with a head held high, Harry following right behind him. The buzz, the whispers and hisses stopped as he stepped in and the judge cleared his throat ex cathedra._

_“Prosecutor Malfoy”, he said and then allowed himself a small smirk. “Or should I address you as Veela Malfoy for what is about to take place in this court room?”_

_Draco smiled back. The rumor mill had gone crazy as soon as it was even ever suggested that Harry Potter might have caved in and humored his Veela Mate in his desire for a biological child. By this time it was a matter of only making things official._

_“You Honor. I am here today not as a Prosecutor but a mere lawyer, representing himself, fighting for my and my Mate’s right of a biological child of both our blood.”_

_The judge stared hard at him while the whispers and hushed voices took over the room again._

_“A child born by one of you?”, the judge clarified._

_“Yes, Your Honor.”_

_The room exploded in exclamations and the judge had to call for order more than twice._

_“Considering the fact that you and your Mate are both men, that is biologically impossible by all natural means and would require certain spells, the morality of which is very questionable.”_

_Draco smiled. “That’s what I’m here to argue about.”_

Harry wasn’t new to public opinion and how it was in fact people having very different points of view, dividing into two or more groups of, respectively, hating the idea or loving it, hating the person/people it concerned or loving them. Because people _always_ had an opinion. Especially if it concerned Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy.

_“Veela Malfoy, considering your own family’s history of dabbling into Dark Magic…”_

_“I object, Your Honor, it’s insubstantial to the current case.”_

_“Sustained.”_

_“I will rephrase my question. As an intelligent man you surely are aware that the incantations and spells you have presented are borderline Dark, thus requiring the present case.”_

_“As an intelligent man, I presume you have read the newest articles of scientists all over the magical world, stating that it was the_ **intent** _that made any spell dark or light…”_

_“You mean to tell me you would argue the same thing if someone had used the Killing Curse with the_ purest _intention?!”_

_“Killing could hardly ever be considered ‘pure’, but the Post War Decree #67 declared that all Killing Curses used in extreme situations of self-defense and/or defending one’s family during the war would not be pursued, thus deeming the light wizards that have come to cast them innocent. Does that answer your question, Prosecutor Jameson?”, Draco smiled as his opponent got redder and redder…_

Harry smiled fondly, remembering this moment of probably the longest case in modern Wizarding Law. He was proud of his Veela and that was maybe the first time he understood Draco’s need to brag with his Mate; Harry would certainly brag with _him_ …

_“And how would you argue blood bonding?!”_

_“Is it not the same as the fact that Wizards and Witches usually Bond their magic when they marry?”, Draco shot back._

_“Their_ magic _! Not their_ lives _!”, Jameson exploded._

_“And what is a Wizard or a Witch without their magic? What are you?”_

_“_ Human beings _!”_

_“And I’m not, simply because I want to procreate with the love of my life?”, Draco asked simply, calmly. “I will answer you in law terms though. According to Ministry Decree # 12 of 1876 Veela are considered Magical **beings**. If I have to rephrase and explain it to someone at your level of intelligence, you yourself are a **being** and being a Wizard makes you a Magical being. The law sees no difference between us”, Draco smiled sweetly._

But outside the courtroom he was anything but sweet.

_“Look, Jameson. Off the record - I understand winning this case will have you promoted to the position of a judge eventually, but I cannot let this happen. Because this is not just a case for me…”_

Finally, after weeks in the courtroom and endless sessions, Draco pulled up his best argument.

_“Your Honor, dear Wizards and Witches present here today; what this case and Prosecutor Jameson have failed to mention so far is the simplest fact that what I can offer – to the whole of the magical world, mind you – is a way of ensuring the existence of Veela. It is a well-known fact the Veela have become near extinct. This is due to the fact that the few remaining Veela most commonly Mate by **love** and not out of convenience, even in the face of near extinction. This means that many couples face problems with procreating – being due to fertility problems or because both partners are male or female and don’t want to use donors of any kind. What I can offer is a solution to all these problems. According to medical research if one of the partners is a Veela and a baby is born within this relationship, it has 70% chance of being a Veela as well.”_

_Draco smiled winningly._

_“We all know how much Veela are appreciated nowadays, mostly because the idea of true and pure love. I can offer a chance even to those Veela-Human couples unwilling to use donors. I can offer the Wizarding society a chance for more Veela babies.”_

The rest was a big blur in Harry’s head. His Mate surely knew how to win Wizarding Britain’s hearts. Because what Harry remembered next were the words,

_“This court gives Draco Malfoy and his Mate Harry Potter, as well as all Veela-Human couples alike, the right to use the incantations, spells and blood bonding discussed during this case in creating a new life of both their blood.”_

And Draco’s next words, right after he had Apparated them right from the middle of the Ministry, whispered feverishly in his ear,

_“Fly with me.”_

_Harry could only nod, too stunned for words._

_Draco grabbed him around his torso, holding him tight as huge white wings , those now-familiar-but-just-as-stunning-as-the-first-time-Harry-saw-them wings, burst from Draco’s shoulders._

_And they flew._

_They flew higher and higher, diving into clouds that were sometimes white, sometimes gray, sometimes cold and sometimes warm and fluffy as if they were made by cotton candy. They sometimes laughed and sometimes kissed feverishly. They sometimes went higher and sometimes dove low but Harry was never afraid, because Draco held him._

_They landed in a cave of some sorts and Draco quickly summoned a thick mattress and soft sheets while Harry lit up a fire with his wand. That was all they were capable of before clothes were torn and gasps and moans fell from bitten lips as they landed on top of the sheets…_

Smiling again, Harry turned around from where he had curled by the entrance of the cave, wrapped in a blanket to fight off the morning chill as the fire had gradually died down while they had been sleeping. Without his Mate by his side, Draco was wrapped in a few blankets again. Harry smiled, realizing that in the last few months his Veela had been sleeping wrapped around him in only one blanket they shared instead of his usual few as it had been in the beginning of their relationship while their Bond was still new and still not settled.

Leaving the blanket by the entrance of the cave, Harry crawled back in their makeshift bed and gathered his Veela in his arms. Draco immediately lost the rest of his covers and wrapped them both in one while all but purring.

Harry hid a smile in his blonde hair. And decided that they could afford a short nap before the need of coffee and a bath overwhelmed the desire of cuddling in the morning.

* * *

 

Draco was dressing for work on Monday after the short break they had indulged into when Harry’s Auror paranoia took the better of him. He sneaked behind his Veela, first wordlessly casting a few spells and then fastening a golden chain around his neck.

“What are you doing?”, the blonde asked suspiciously.

“Giving my partner a gift?”, Harry tried.

Draco stared at him in the mirror. Harry sighed.

“Fine. It’s a powerful amulet. I’m just making sure you’re protected.”

“I’ll have you know…”

“That you are a capable Wizard who can defend himself, I know, I know. I just don’t want it to come to that.”

Draco smiled softly.

“I’ll have you _know_ that it’s very cute and all”, he said, turning into Harry’s arms to face him and wrap his own arms around his neck, “but everyone knows I’m Mated to Harry Potter, Auror extraordinaire and Vanquisher of the Dark Lord. Who’d be stupid enough to attack me?”

“As an Auror, I’ve learnt to never underestimate people’s stupidity”, Harry growled. “Just… wear it for my sake, okay?”

Draco’s amused eyes searched his Mate’s green orbs; he didn’t want to know how _overwhelmingly_ protective Harry would become when they _actually_ expected their child.

* * *

 

Weird things kept happening when Draco got to work. It started with Granger.

“Granger”, he acknowledged her presence when she popped right in front of him, too close in his personal space to be considered polite; or comfortable.

“Malfoy. I wanted to congratulate you on winning your case.”

 _“I win my every case”,_ he wanted to say but he was not a brat anymore; much.

“Thank you. Listen, about your earlier question, when it’s a matter of a child, I will do everything I can to help you and Wea-…”

She snorted bitterly.

“Come on. You’re a smart guy. You know there’s no such thing as Ron-and-I. So, thank you and it really means a lot that you offer, but… it doesn’t seem like it matters anymore, since we’re not together anymore, haven’t even properly seen each other in…”

“Hermione. It’s the 21st century. Women do ask men out. I thought you of all people should know that, always defending everyone’s rights…”

“The problem isn’t that he’s a man, Malfoy!”, she hissed. “The problem is that he clearly hates m-…”

There was a muffled explosion in a room down the corridor. Both of them jumped in surprise; everyone had turned in that direction. The door opened and a smoking Auror stepped out. As in, his clothes, or what was left of them, were quite literally smoking; his fiery red hair was messy, making it look like his head was indeed on fire.

Ron Weasley did look pissed off.

“Seriously, Gillian?! How fucking dense can you be!?”, he yelled, angrily ripping off the remnants of his robes and shirt, obviously unaware, or just not giving a damn, that his chest was exposed to the hungry eyes of all the women (and some men) in the corridor.

Ron Weasley was smoking hot. In every sense of the word.

His skin was pale, like the color of his hair suggested it would be. His chest was hairless (save for the happiest dark-red trail disappearing in his low-hung jeans), lightly freckled and so well defined that it looked like it was carved from marble. His tight six-pack flexed as he panted, still shouting to the unfortunate trainee, sapphire blue eyes promising revenge.

Of course, such physic was nothing new to Draco – Harry’s own body looked quite similar and he figured that was what Auror training and the job itself did to people. But judging by Hermione’s wide eyes she hadn’t seen the man in this state of undress for quite some time.

Ron crumbled the rags of his robes into a ball and tossed them at another young trainee, passing by.

“Here, hold this for me”, he growled, then marched down the hallway to his and Harry’s office.

Draco turned to Hermione.

“Granger, you’re an idiot”, he stated. She finally closed her gaping mouth and turned to glare at him. Draco was not impressed. “Seriously, did you see that!? I’m Mated and pretty much blind for anyone but Harry, but even I could tell how hot he is – and I never, ever in a million years would have thought that I’d say that one day! GO! ASK HIM OUT!”

“But-…”

“Hermione”, he grabbed her shoulders and shook her gently. “There was a reason you were sorted into Gryffindor. If a snake like me found the guts to confess to my Mate when there was nothing but bad memories between us, you go find that lioness inside you and. ASK. THE MAN. OUT!”

She stared at him wide eyed and blushing slightly. Then, slowly, a small smile stretched her lips.

“I can see now why you’re the best in what you do for a living”, she mused quietly, then simply nodded and left a very smug Veela in the Ministry hallway.

* * *

 

Simpson provided him with folic acid. Lots of it.

“Um. I’m not pregnant”, Draco said.

“Yes. I mean, I know, but when you’re _preparing_ to…”

“Or a woman”, Draco continued.

“Right”, his youngest assistant blushed hard. “I mean, I know that of course, but I thought, you know, it can’t hurt to…”

“Eric?”

“Yeah?”

“Drop the awkward convo and go get us something sweet.”

“Yes, sir!”

* * *

 

Harry’s weird part of the day started from the moment he got back home. The lights were dimmed and there were candles lit everywhere. And there was a giant pentagram, drawn on the floor, along with some runes, some Latin words and some that looked Cyrillic. Right in the middle there was a cozy looking nest made of soft sheets.

Their purpose was quite blatant.

“Draco?”, Harry called hesitantly.

“Coming in a minute. Undress and step into the pentagram”, was all his Veela said.

“Uh…?”, Harry frowned.

“You’re taking too long”, Draco complained, still in the bathroom.

“But…”

Harry’s clothes simply vanished – Draco wasn’t taking any more stalling. Seconds later what felt like a wind gave Harry a gentle push towards the star on the floor.

“I was thinking about some music, but finally decided against it, since it could be distracting too.”

“But…”

“Are you still outside the pentagram?!”

“Can we maybe talk about it first…?”

Almost as soon as he said it Harry heard the quiet footsteps and looked back.

Draco stood there, in all his naked glory, looking smug.

“Do you _really_ want to _talk_ right now?”

Harry’s mouth got dry. Draco’s smug smile widened just a bit.

“Thought so.”

* * *

 

Harry stared at the amazing being, writhing in his lap. Something was off. He knew his Veela; he knew how to look behind the cocky, outgoing behavior. He knew to look at the clenched eyes, furrowed eyebrows, the thin line of the otherwise full lips. He knew those trembles weren’t caused from being turned on.

“Draco”, Harry called, making the grey eyes finally open and look at him.

“Hm?”

“What are we doing?”, Harry asked quietly.

Draco frowned. “Wh-…? Making a baby, Harry, come on, follow on…”

“I thought we were making love.”

Draco stopped all movement and stared at him, searchingly. Harry forced a smile.

“I don’t want a child born out of automatic sex. And I know you don’t want it either. We’ve always made love, not fucked out of obligation. Relax. _Make love_ to me. The baby comes as a result of that.”

Draco’s eyes were suspiciously shiny when he dove down for a hungry, all-consuming kiss, full of all the love and passion he had for his Mate.

* * *

 

Two young Aurors smirked and shook their heads as they passed them by and an elderly Witch all but stifled a giggle.

“They’re staring”, Harry observed.

“Let them”, Draco muttered over his lips.

“They’re staring because we act like lovesick high schoolers”, Harry added.

They were in the corridor leading to Harry and Ron’s office. Draco had officially come by to bring Harry yet another batch of freshly made cookies. Unofficially, it was an excuse for short and mild (they _were_ in the _Ministry_ after all) making out session.

“We should run away to Paris again”, Draco sighed. “Make love all day and eat pastries in between rounds.”

Harry admitted, at least to himself, that it did sound fantastic. And immature and irresponsible. They couldn’t just up and leave every single time they wanted to.

Something caught his eyes and he frowned, staring at…

“Is that Hermione in front of my office?”

It was. She looked nervous and caught between blushing and paling. She cleared her throat and lifted a hand to knock.

“I should go see what she needs”, Harry started, but Draco held him back by the shoulder. Harry turned around to look questioningly at his smirking Veela.

“She’s not looking for you.” 

The door opened and Ron peaked out, just as surprised to see his ex as Harry was. Hermione blushed, clenching her fine robes, and began talking in hushed tones Harry couldn’t hear.

Draco tugged at his sleeve.

“Come work in my office for a while. Those two could use a long talk”, he smiled.

* * *

 

Harry was whistling, walking the last few yards to their flat, holding the bags of groceries. He was in a good mood after he had spent his afternoon with Draco (finishing no work whatsoever in his presence). He had gone back to his office only to go grab his coat and see Ron’s dreamy gaze. His friend had quickly shaken his head and claimed there was nothing out of the ordinary. But Harry had seen that small smile right before he had left for the night.

Draco had had to finish his own work so they had agreed to meet at home.

Whatever hit him came out of nowhere. And it hit him hard, from behind, making him tumble on the ground. He tasted blood as he reached for his wand but he was too slow in his daze and it was brutally kicked out of his hand.

“Feeling weak, Auror Potter?”, a raspy voice asked as a figure bent down over him. Harry recognized a criminal he had arrested a few months ago. Jacob Francis was probably the dumbest idiot out there and he was only out of Azkaban because some newbie had lost a key evidence.

But out of all the idiotic things he had done, this one held the first place.

A dark laugh bubbled out of Harry’s split lips, blood running down his chin as he fought to breathe through his chuckles.

“Attacking me was the stupidest thing you could have done.”

“What was that, Potter?”, Francis hissed. “And what’s so funny?”

“You know what’s scarier than a fallen Auror?”, Harry asked. “His Veela Mate. His _veeery pissed off_ Veela Mate.”

Francis was obviously not as dumb as he looked since his eyes widened with realization just as a strange whipping sound from behind made him turn back sharply.

Draco stood there, dark and ravenous like Harry had never seen him before; enraged. Utterly dangerous. His white feathered wings had turned into black skin, akin of those dragons had. Sharp talons trembled as if itching to dig into someone. Fangs poked out of his mouth. But the scariest thing were his eyes – all black like two burning charcoals as he glared into his thunderstruck victim.

Harry used Francis’ stunned state to stand up and put a locking spell on his wrists, alerting his Auror colleagues.

“And _that_ is why you do not piss off a fiercely protective _mated_ Veela”, he said.

He then kicked his shins and didn’t even watch as the dumbass collapsed on the ground, shaking badly. He only had eyes for Draco right now.

“Hey”, he called. Black fathomless eyes fixed on him. “Pull the shift back and let’s get home. The guys will pick him up in a minute.”

The talons flexed and Draco’s lip curled over a fang. Harry sighed.

“Come on, don’t let this douche ruin our night. Come back to _me_.”

 _That_ worked and Draco finally did so, if still a bit reluctantly. By the time the Aurors Apparated around them he was back to his usual self, only glaring daggers at the trembling criminal. Harry smirked, flinging an arm around his shoulders.

“Come. Let’s go home.”

“Weren’t you terrified like him? Disgusted by that… other side of me?”, he whispered still staring at Francis.

Harry shook his head. “Nope. Because now I have seen every side of you. And I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Draco blinked, finally looking back at him. He started to smile, but then it turned to a frown and he said instead,

“You’re bleeding.”

Harry sighed, but he kept his mouth shut. He decided to indulge Draco by letting his Veela fuss around him.


	18. Escaping from reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I want to THANK YOU all for your support. It really means a lot right now, so thanks for all the amazing reviews and I hope I won't disappoint you.  
> Now, warnings!!! This chapter contains some details that might be seen as triggers so be prepared. And know that I meant it all in the context of being able to and comfortable to completely trust your partner and let go with them - including trusting them to stop you if you get too far.  
> Also, because it was pointed out how Draco manipulates Harry with being so focused on his dream and "sulking" if doesn't all happen his way. I know people in real life fighting for a child. It's hard and it can be just the way I described it - you get a bit lost on your way there, too focused on your dream. Adoption and surrogacy are not something everyone must agree on and that does not make them bad people manipulating their partner. It's a matter of a child - you have to be completely sure that you want it and how you want it, not do something because it sounds great or noble. Maybe I didn't describe it well with Draco but I hope I'm understood correctly and I hope you guys keep liking where this story goes.   
> All the love,  
> assassi

He stared into the mirror trying to convince himself he was ready. It had been a month already. It could have happened. He should check.

He took a deep breath, took his wand and made the advanced moves while whispering quietly,

“ _Infans Revelio_!”

Nothing happened. No warm fuzzy feeling, no golden glow around his stomach, nothing.

Draco sighed again.

“Hey.”

He whirled around. Harry’s soft smile wasn’t mocking or judging. It was understanding.

“It has _only_ been a month. Give it some more time”, he said, kissing his Veela gently on the brow, before leaving the blonde to accept his words.

* * *

 

Draco woke up alone. It hadn’t happened in a while and he stirred, shivering from the cold. He sighed, sat up, ruffled his already messy hair and finally stood up, immediately slipping into his warmest slippers. He yawned and went searching for his Mate.

Harry wasn’t in the kitchen drinking coffee like usual. Draco frowned, but just then a soft whisper caught his attention from the room with the Floo.

“… I want to, but I just can’t do this to him now.”

Draco’s heart skipped an involuntary beat. Harry couldn’t do what to him? Surely he didn’t mean cheating? Harry would never…

“I mean, he fights for this child so hard. He was sure I didn’t support him enough. And now as he won his every battle, now as we’re trying for our own… I can’t just… rub it in his face. Like, “hey, I happen to already have a kid, can he spent the weekend?” So. I can… Can I… can I take him for a walk on Saturday and then another one on Sunday, maybe?”

And then, Ginny’s soft voice,

“Of course you can, Harry. As long as you spend time with James and you guys bond with each other I don’t mind. I just think that you should talk to Draco. It’s not healthy for a relationship to…”

“Sorry, Gin, but stay out of my relationship with Draco.”

She sighed. “Fine. Do what you think is right.”

“I plan to.”

And so did Draco.

* * *

 

Later that same evening Harry dragged his feet to their small flat, exhausted from work and overthinking his conversation with Ginny from that morning. He took out his keys and slipped inside, calling for his Veela.

“Draco?”

“In the living room.”

Harry smiled as he toed off his shoes and began walking towards the voice… he froze as he heard the soft gurgle. Voice _s_? He stepped in and his breath caught as he saw the blonde rocking a half-asleep James. Draco looked up and caught his eyes.

“I won’t pretend that Weasley just randomly showed up and left your son to my care. I talked to her. And now I want to talk with you.”

Harry finally found the air to breathe again, heaving a sigh.

“You heard us this morning.”

“I did”, Draco agreed, then he nodded towards the opposite armchair. “Come. Sit.”

Harry did.

“I wasn’t worried that you’d mistreat him or won’t take care of him”, he said quickly.

Draco nodded slowly. “That’s reassuring. If only a little. What _were_ you worried about?”

“You”, Harry confessed simply.

Single-worded answers didn’t satisfy Draco right now.

“That I wouldn’t want him around? That I’d hate him because he’s not mine? Because that’s idiotic Harry, he’s half yours, half my _Mate’s_ and that’s more than enough for me.”

Harry smiled crookedly.

“That’s reassuring”, he parroted. “But that’s not all.”

“Then?”

“You heard me this morning. I didn’t want you to feel like I was rubbing it to your face, that I have a child, and you and I still don’t.”

Draco suddenly smiled softly. “You and I _will_ have a child. Even if it doesn’t work out with the ritual, I’m not really against adoption. I know I sounded harsh before but I was just tired and emotional. I don’t like the idea of surrogacy because the whole procedure is too cold and sterile the way I see it; but adoption – I’m not against that. I just wanted to have more options. And if our child can have your eyes or my nose, yeah, I want that. I want to at least try, Harry.”

He looked down at James with the same gentle smile.

“Weasley said it would be good training for me. For both of us actually.”

Harry grinned back.

“So… the weekends?”

Draco rolled his eyes, but his smile widened as he said,

“Yes. We have him for the weekends.”

* * *

 

Harry was whistling when he came to work on Monday. A fact that didn’t go unnoticed by his best friend and fellow Auror.

“You seem happier today”, Ron noted, then smiled and added, “Ginny told me James spent the last two days with you and Draco.”

Harry ginned. “Yep.”

Ron waited. For a whole moment.

“Well?! How was it?”

“Enlightening”, Harry laughed. “Especially changing the nappies.”

“Draco was not very fond of that, I take it?”, Ron smirked.

Harry laughed. “He did great actually. After the first nausea fit and vomiting right next to the baby.”

Ron chuckled, shaking his head.

“ _You_ seem happier today. Care to share?”, Harry asked.

Ron blushed and raked a hand through his messy red hair.

“I, uh… I’m seeing Hermione around noon.”

“So it’s a date?”, Harry smirked.

Ron sighed. “I don’t know, Harry. Last time we were together I was ready to propose. Two days before I take that step and she breaks up with me with no explanation at all.”

“You know the explanation…”

“I know it now. I still don’t fully accept it. And even if we do end up being together again, it’s still gonna be something we’re going to stumble on every turn.”

“Do you want to get back together?”, Harry asked tentatively.

Ron smiled softly, not meeting his eyes. “I’ve never really seen myself with anyone else.”

“Then?”

“It’s her stance on the matter that I’m not sure about.” Ron sighed again and busied himself with some papers. “Anyway. We’ll figure it out with some more time.”

Harry agreed.

He was also pretty sure that his friends _will_ get back together. And he knew a Veela who would take all the credit for that.

* * *

 

Draco was immersed in books when Harry got home. His brow was furrowed and he looked troubled. He barely answered when Harry bent down to kiss him and completely ignored the fact that he hadn’t taken his shoes off yet, something that usually annoyed the blonde to no end.

“Tough case?”, Harry asked.

“I’m not reading for a case”, Draco muttered.

“Hm? What for then?”

“The baby.”

Harry felt himself tensing as he sat down next to his lover.

“What is it?”, he asked.

Draco sighed, rubbing his face with both hands in frustration.

“I just thought… we might be doing something wrong. Nothing’s happened yet.”

“Draco. It’s only been two months…”

“I know! I know…”, the blonde muttered.

Harry hated seeing him so defeated and he knew he had to cheer him up before Draco’s bad mood worsened into a full-blown depression.

“Ron and Hermione might be getting back together”, he said out of the blue.

“That’s great, Harry. They might end up having kids before you and me.”

The Auror felt that like a slap on so many levels that he closed his mouth with a click and waited for the sting to go away. Draco felt that. His hand found Harry’s and he squeezed lightly.

“I’m sorry”, he said, sounding genuinely regretful. “I really am happy for Granger and Weasley. I just…”

“I know. It’ll happen. We just need some more time.”

* * *

 

Harry found Draco sleeping over a dozen law books for the whole two weeks that followed. As Harry had asked him to, he wasn’t researching baby-making again. He was just taking his job home, looking for solace in something he knew, something he was good at. Something that worked.

Every night Harry would take him in his arms and take him to bed. Sometimes the blonde would wake up and they’d have sex. But it was dull and unemotional. Obligatory. On autopilot.

The _Infans Revelio_ charm was repeated over a dozen times, its negative results making Draco gloomier and gloomier.

It was everything Harry been afraid of. But what he was even more scared from was Draco’s reaction if he mentioned it again; now as his lover’s sanity seemed to hang on a thin thread. So he kept quiet and tried his best to give Draco what he needed.

* * *

 

Four months passed like that, in a daze that Harry had never felt before. He just woke up one day and realized that it had been four months since he had started going through the same motions every day, not quite living but rather existing. He didn’t know when all that time passed. He didn’t even remember it. He just knew he had to break away from that daze.

* * *

 

It happened unexpectedly. In a way Harry had never imagined.

“I’m going on a mission in Ireland. It might take a few days”, he said.

Draco nodded with an unreadable expression. “Stay safe.”

* * *

 

It was bad. It was messy and pointless – their suspects were dead before they could interrogate them, fellow Aurors were hurt badly and for a terrifying moment Harry was convinced one of them was even dead. She had made it, but just barely, thanks to the Irish Healers who apparated immediately on the crime-scene.

His ears hurt. He was staggering, tripping over the fallen bodies, stepping into pools of blood, painfully reminded of pain and white wings and a blinding fog.   

“Auror Potter! Auror Potter! Just a few words for…”

“Who let the reporters in! Back off! Back the hell off! Donovan, get them outta here!”

“Somebody call a Healer here!”

“Potter, you’re bleeding…”

Harry apparated.

* * *

 

Draco opened the door and his eyes widened in pure horror.

“Harry! Merlin, what happened! Come on, babe, I got you!”

Harry tripped again, badly, falling into his Veela’s arms, barely registering the huge white wings that immediately unfolded around him, Draco’s instincts telling him to protect his Mate. Healing power flowed through them and into Harry’s bruised body, but he hissed and pulled back only enough to look at huge silver eyes.

“No, don’t… it’s not, it’s not that bad, I promise…”

“Harry, you’re bleeding…!”, Draco’s voice cracked.

“Just minor cuts”, he reassured. His hand crawled under Draco’s shirt. “Please, I just need… I need…”

Touch. Reassuring himself that Draco was there, alive, still loving him, even if nothing else worked, even if there was no baby, despite everything, stubbornly _there_ …

“Please…”, he whispered brokenly.

It took one look for Draco to understand. It took only that one look to reassure Harry that they still had it, still got the connection between them, that bond that was strong enough to not need complicated explanations.

Draco understood.

“Okay”, he said, voice cracking again.

“I don’t know if… Draco, I can’t hold back right now…”

The blonde gave him a watery smile.

“Then don’t.”

Harry didn’t remember how they got to their bed. Didn’t remember undressing Draco or himself. Didn’t remember preparing him…

Didn’t remember them doing this ever before. Didn’t remember ever being so deep, ever holding Draco so hard, hard enough to bruise, driving himself deeper, deeper, striving, aching to connect on a baser level, to let out all of his demons, unafraid of being unaccepted, unbound. Somewhere in the back of his head a small voice cried, telling him that he was an animal, that he might be hurting Draco, what was he doing?! But Draco’s fingers intertwined with his own and he held on, moaning quietly, encouraging Harry, encouraging the monster…

And then it was over and Harry was curling around Draco, holding him just as tight, feeling like worst scum.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… Did I hurt you?”, Harry half-sobbed into Draco’s head.

The blonde pulled back enough to look at his eyes and smile tiredly.

“No, Harry. You finally let me in and trusted me enough to let go. Doing this once in a blue moon doesn’t make you an animal”, his smile widened a bit. “And neither does making sure your partner came first. Did you hear that? You made sure I came first.”

“I did?”, Harry whispered.

“You did”, Draco nodded.

“I don’t remember that. I could have hurt you and I wouldn’t have realized…”

“Harry. You made sure I came first even when you weren’t fully conscious. This doesn’t make you an animal. This tells me you could never hurt me. And I want you to come to me again when you need something like this…”

“No! This will not happen again!”

“Harry…”

“Not… not having control over myself in a time like that…scares me.”

“But you did have control, love. Think again and you’ll realize.”

Draco’s hand around his. Draco’s moans and gentle encouragement. Draco, holding on tight… He remembered that. He could still feel that.

“Because you keep me grounded”, Harry whispered.

Draco smiled.

“And I always will. I’ll always make sure that you have your control. If I feel that you’ve lost it, I _can_ and I _will_ stop you until I make sure you have it again. And I promise you I enjoyed this very much. I’m not saying I want it rough all the time”, Draco smirked, “but we can do this once in a while. When one of us needs it. So you can let go with me. Because I’ll always keep you grounded.”

Harry’s eyes were watery when he smiled and nuzzled into his Veela.

“Thank you for this. Thank you for everything.”

Draco said nothing – he just held him close until they fell asleep.

* * *

 

Harry woke up alone, to the smell of coffee and the typical English breakfast. He nuzzled Draco’s pillow, hiding a smile in the soft cotton – Draco always made a filling breakfast after an especially vigorous night. He inhaled the smell of sex and his Veela’s unique natural scent, sighed contently and finally stood up and dragged his feet towards the kitchen.

Draco was still cooking when he walked in, sneaking behind the blonde to place a gentle kiss on his nape while his hand crawled down Draco’s pale naked chest.

“Smells amazing”, Harry sighed.

“Yours is on the table”, Draco answered, nuzzling back.

“Didn’t mean the food.”

Draco chuckled, shaking his head but holding back any remarks. Feeling actually hungry, Harry sat at the table and dug into the heaping pile of bacon and eggs, chewing slowly and sipping from his ‘poisonous black’ coffee. Draco hummed contently, finishing off his own serving, moving freely around their kitchen.

Something was different, Harry’s sleepy Auror senses told him. Something…

Draco washed his hands and dried them off; Harry’s eyes went wide as he dropped the fork and was by his Veela’s side in just a second. He took Draco’s left forearm and examined the pale _unmarred_ skin.

With not a single trace of a Dark Mark.

He looked at his chest.

No Sectumsempra scars.

“Wh-… How?”, he whispered.

Draco smiled softly, leaning in to kiss him tenderly, a barely there touch of lips.

“A Mate’s love and full trust are everything for a Veela. It’s healing for us. For my kind, even the darkest magic is reversible when we establish and contain a bond as deep and strong as ours.” Draco’s lips trembled slightly but his eyes didn’t leave Harry’s. “You’ve been healing me for months. Last night was just the final drop, the final healing touch for a soul and body as scarred as mine.”

Harry was rendered speechless. He could only stand there, watching and holding the amazing being that his Veela was. Because their bond had been healing them both.

* * *

 

“You look better.”

Draco looked up from his coffee, where he had been staring with a lazy smile, and stared at Granger. He nodded, accepting her words.

“You too. I heard Weasley and you might get back together.”

She stared at him strangely.

“Draco. We _are_ back together. It’s been five months.”

He blinked, caught off guard. Five months since Weasley and Granger had gotten back together? Half a year since he and Harry had started trying for a baby… It was like a slap to the face. When had all that time passed? He felt like he had been living in a dream, right until last night when something shook him hard enough to wake him up.

He coughed awkwardly and slipped a fake smile on his face.

“Really, has it been five months already, look how the time pa-…”

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t just realize it.”

Hermione. Always so perceptive. There was no fooling her and Draco should have known better. He sighed, dropping the charade.

“It doesn’t stop me from taking all the credit for that, Granger”, he said instead.

She smirked but then her expression became worried again.

“Are you and Harry having some troubles?”, she asked.

“We’re… better. We’re actually okay again.” He sighed. “I’m just tired, that’s all. Maybe I need some time off.”

“But not from Harry?”

He stared at her. “Are you asking me? Or telling me?”

She measured him calculatingly. “Asking you.”

“Never. I’ll never need a break from our relationship.”

She nodded, satisfied. “Telling you then. Reminding you, to be fair. Reminding you not to repeat my mistakes.”

He watched her carefully before he nodded and they sipped their coffee in silence.

* * *

 

Harry came home that evening still sore from the aftermath of the Irish fiasco, still exhausted from a night of reconnecting with his partner and still needing said partner.

“Draco? Hey, I’m home… What are you doing sitting alone in the kitchen?”

The blonde sat at the table, clutching a cup of tea. Their eyes met and Draco looked very serious when he said,

“We need to talk.”

“That doesn’t sound very good”, Harry noted, slightly alarmed, as he sat down beside his Veela. Draco smiled crookedly.

“It’s nothing that ominous. Just. Important.”

“Okay”, Harry nodded slowly.

Draco took a deep breath. “We need a break.”

He felt Harry tensing beside him, worrying, wondering if maybe, even after last night and the strength of their bond something had gone horribly wrong. Draco hurried to explain.

“Not from each other! Just. From this”, he spread his arms looking lost. “From our life here. From all of the stress. I need a break from this and I want you… I _need_ you, really, just trying to not pressure you, to come with me. Harry, I _need_ to get away from this – from our jobs and… and the fact that our goal, our dream… It’s not working. And maybe”, his voice cracked and he broke eye-contact, looking down at the table. “Maybe I need to accept that it just… wasn’t meant to be.”

“Hey.”

Draco looked up. Harry smiled tentatively.

“If you need a break, we’ll take a break, somewhere beautiful and peaceful. We’re not giving up. We’re just stealing some time for ourselves.”

The blonde nodded through a watery smile.

“Yeah. Okay.”

* * *

 

Hermione’s phone beeped insistently from her nightstand, making her groan but reach out to take it and check who had decided to bother her while it was still dark outside.

“ _Granger. Harry and I decided to steal some time for ourselves. We’re in Bulgaria. Don’t call the Aurors_ _J_ _.Draco_.”

Hermione smiled softly, rereading the message. A strong arm crawled across her waist, tugging her closer to a muscled body and a deep voice rumbled from behind her,

“What is it?”

“Harry and Draco are on a holiday. He writes to tell me not to inform the Aurors.”

“Which you just did”, the voice was amused.

She chuckled, snuggling closer. “Yes.”

Everything was fine, finally. Not perfect but good enough. Harry and Draco would be alright. And after months of loneliness and pain, she was finally content in those strong arms holding her tight. As the silence stretched Hermione assumed Ron had gone back to sleep. But right behind her back a pair of sapphire blue eyes watched her with the quiet reverence of someone who finally had all he had wished for.

* * *

 

“Who are you writing to?”, Harry asked sleepily with his head pillowed on Draco’s shoulder as the train shook him gently, barely moving at all.

“Granger. Told her not to send a search party.”

Harry snorted, still with his eyes closed.

“Where are we?”, he asked.

“Somewhere in the middle.”

“Are you sure we’re still moving?”

“Yes, Harry, for a hundredth time. This is just how the Rhodope Narrow Gauge moves.”

“We could have App-…”

“A-khem!”

“Right”, Harry murmured, remembering Draco’s warning how most young Bulgarians spoke English.

“Forget… _that_. We could have _walked_.”

“You’re nuisance. Stop whining, open up your eyes and enjoy the scenery.”

“I did. It was beautiful, the first two hours.”

“The train to school took much more time. What did you do back then?”

“I ate chocolate frogs.”

Draco sighed, digging into his satchel for the biggest Muggle chocolate he could find before they had gotten on the train. “Here. You’re such a child.”

The girl sitting across from them giggled, throwing them sidelong glances.

“Sorry”, she said as she caught Draco’s gaze. “It’s just… you two are cute together.”

“Благодаря*”, Draco smiled, making her eyes widen in surprise.

From then on it was a never-ending conversation. In Bulgarian. Harry went back to sleep.

* * *

 

The beautiful barn owl startled Hermione as it landed majestically right over her paperwork. The bird gave her a long evaluating look then obviously decided the woman was worth its time, hooted softly and reached out its leg.

Still a little confused, Hermione took out the note, opened it and began reading.

“ _Hermione,_

_It’s beautiful here. I wish you could see for yourself, as I’m sure you would appreciate it. Bulgarian nature is something out of fairytales. We were hiking  yesterday in Vitosha and today we’re at the beach near Sinemoretz. There was some snow left on the top of the mountain and there were even people skiing. It’s April, Mione. Draco said it was not even their highest top! To prove that he took me there afterwards, to the Musala in Rila mountain. They say it means ‘near God’ or ‘a place for prayer’. It’s really majestic and peaceful. He insisted on actually climbing the other highest top in Rila, Malyovitza. It’s even more beautiful and even more scary! I was close to losing it a few times as he hopped to the edge of the rocks, but the view from the top is worth everything. It’s less crowded as there’s no lift going there, unlike the Musala. If I have to pick a favorite place in the mountains so far, it would be Malyovitza._

_The seaside is something else entirely. There are the crowded areas of Golden sands and Sunny beach, but there’s also the quiet beauty of Kamen bryag and Tyulenovo, the legends of Cape Kaliakra, the wide shore of Sinemoretz, where the Veleka river meets the sea and there are wild poppies growing from the sand._

_Bulgarians are weird. People living near the sea are somehow colder, compared to the mountaineers who are warm and hospitable. Sadly, most of them are kind of always nervous, always on edge, worried about their jobs, about taxes and insurances and everything. They seem to have forgotten how they once fought for their freedom, how they won. I wish they remember that._

_We’re back in Strandzha mountain now as he seems oddly drawn to this place. I don’t know when we’ll be back. I thought Draco needed that but it turns out it’s both of us who needed this escape. You can write to me or call him. If he has coverage. It’s usually good here, but it sometimes disappears in the mountains._

_Give Sophie some owl treats. She’s really amazing to have found us even here._

_Love,_

_Harry_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * blagodarya. It means thank you.


	19. Dancing with Veela

Harry stepped out of the small cottage with two steaming cups of tea. He handed one of them to Draco and sat next to him on the small porch, inhaling the herbal aroma from his own mug.

“I love these herbs”, he said once again.

Draco smiled without opening his eyes, too content to just bathe in sunlight.

“Let’s move here”, he said.

Harry snorted. “Weren’t we moving to France?”

“Forget France. Here’s better. With sun. Herbal tea. Banitza…”

Harry laughed. He was well on his way on getting fat with the delicious Bulgarian cuisine.

“But France has macarons”, he reminded. “And eclairs.”

“…Damn you”, Draco muttered petulantly.

Harry laughed again, the sound slowly fading in the silence of the forest.

“Joking aside, we could do both”, he said, now completely serious.

Draco opened one silver eye in a silent question.

“We can afford it”, Harry continued. “We don’t have to stick to Britain, only because we work there. We can make a small home anywhere. And separate our weekends between Bulgaria and France. Maybe we’ll add more with time, Greece or Italy…”

Draco’s eyes were now both wide open. “Would you really do that with me?”

Harry smirked. “I wouldn’t do it with anyone else.”

Draco smiled, slowly and softly, and bent down to kiss him.

* * *

 

On the next day they ventured to one of the bigger villages in the area. Draco insisted on buying souvenirs and even though there weren’t many souvenir shops around here he swore he would find one.

It took him some time, but he did.

Harry followed his enthusiastic partner a few steps behind, thinking how there was something about these woods, something about this mountain specifically that he hadn’t noticed in any other place in Bulgaria. Unlike other mountaineers Strandzha people were kind of more distanced, more closed off. Not hostile, but somehow… quieter. Like they kept secrets they wouldn’t ever share with outsiders.

He remembered Stephan’s tales of native Veela and their descendants. And he wondered, not for the first time, if some of these tales were true.

“Harry! Look! It’s a whole local national costume!” Draco said, waving the pair of clothes at his Mate.

They were baby sized.

Harry smiled, giving thumbs up for his enthusiastic Veela.

He hoped they would use these clothes. Some day.

* * *

 

“Remember when you found me by the fire?”

“I honestly can’t forget that, even if I tried.”

Draco chuckled snuggling closer under all the blankets. For once, Harry had to admit all the covers were much needed – it became quite chilly in these woods at night.

“I didn’t expect you to come. And find me.”, Draco admitted.

“I didn’t expect you to run to the other half of the world”, Harry said. And then, more quietly, “You promised me something by that fire. You promised…”

“I know, Harry. I haven’t forgotten. And I won’t leave you.”

* * *

 

He stood, barefooted and half-naked, on the small porch, shivering. It was cold, so cold, and he only wore a pair of boxers and a thin white shirt; unbuttoned. He didn’t remember what had woken him up in the middle of the night, what kind of force had beckoned him here. His ears were straining and his eyes were staring into the darkness, trying to see and hear… what?

An invisible force pulled his hand, pushing his bare feet straight into the dark forest. He tripped in roots and got smacked by the lower branches of the trees. The only light there was cast by the half-full moon. It was madness to be here, what was he doing here…

The quiet sound of a mischievous giggle startled him and made his breath hitch and his eyes strain even further. He didn’t ask who the mysterious being was. He knew.

A pale hand crawled on the side of a nearby tree, looking so white it was almost ghostly. A blonde head peeked at him and the lone visible blue eye glinted with a sly, feline glint. She stepped from around the tree, young, pale and thin; ethereal. Her long blonde curls fell on her thin shoulders and down to her waist. Her clothes were almost transparent. She smiled at him and lifted a hand to beckon him closer.

Half in trance, Draco followed her.

They reached a small clearing, bathed in moonlight, where more young women seemed to wait for them. They looked small and frail, young and innocent, but Draco knew they could be viscous. They _would_ be, to anyone else. But not to him. And Draco was not afraid, because he was one of them. He carried the same blood, the same instincts.

And when they reached out their hands and asked him to join them, he knew what to do.

They danced in a circle, an ancient dance no one had ever showed him, but he knew nonetheless. He didn’t follow. He moved fluidly like he had done that thousands of times. He felt light and free, happy and unbound. He was in control and he felt damn good in his skin.

He didn’t know how long they had danced before he heard it, a desperate plea, a cry from a distance,

_“Draco!”_

He looked up at the circle, these women who had acknowledged him as one of their own. They smiled and some of them winked before they disappeared in thin smoke.

“Draco!”, Harry yelled again, now running into the clearing. His eyes widened when he saw Draco, almost naked and shivering in the cold, bathed in moonlight. He shook off his jacket, stepping closer, talking a mile an hour. “You’ll freeze… What were you thinking!? I almost lost my mind when I woke and you weren’t there and we had just talked and you _promised_ me, you _promised me again_ …”

Draco grabbed the jacket before Harry could wrap it around him and let it fall on the ground. Then he caught his Mate’s lips in a sinful kiss. Harry tried to pull back and speak again, maybe tried to reason about the freezing forest, but it was hardly a real effort. He looked positively dizzy when Draco moved back, just an inch, just far enough that he could smile smugly. But there was something in that smile. Something new. Sly.

Harry found himself kneeling on the ground with Draco’s dexterous fingers crawling on his suddenly burning skin. Like a spell he couldn’t break, like a wild magic he didn’t want to fight and never wanted to end, he stared into his Veela’s blazing silver eyes, reflecting the moonlight. That was all he could see. The rest of it was just a feeling. He gasped as Draco sank down on him, engulfing him in warmth and a pleasure so blinding that Harry felt himself gasping between kisses, as if that was his only way to breathe, lost in the amazing sensation of his Veela. He felt like there was electricity coursing in his body, fire in his veins, sheer madness that he was succumbed into. He was so out of it, so under Draco’s control, left to his mercy, reduced to begging in just… was it seconds? Minutes? Hours? Was Draco even close?

Huge white wings burst around them, bathing them in reflected light, engulfing them in warmth as Draco’s fingers pulled hard at Harry’s hair and they both cried out their ecstasy into the night.

* * *

 

Draco sniffed miserably, gulping his scorching hot ginger tea. Harry pointedly ignored all that, immersed in his book. Draco scoffed.

“What could possibly be so interesting, Auror I-never-get-sick Potter?”, he snipped.

Harry turned another page. “It’s a book about a whimsical man who seduces his partner to have sex in the middle of the night. In a forest. In April.”

“Ha-fucking-ha”, Draco sneered, sneezing. “’m cold.”

Harry opened his mouth but just then a cheerful voice interrupted him.

_“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We’re landing in 5 minutes, so please put your seatbelts on.”_

Harry immediately followed the order and inhaled sharply when the plane began descending, closing his eyes tightly and instinctively grabbing the first thing he thought of, namely Draco’s hand. The blonde blinked owlishly.

“You’re scared of flying”, he observed.

“Not… _scared_ ”, Harry hissed through clenched teeth. “ _Uncomfortable_. And not of _flying_ per see. I’m _uncomfortable_ _with_ _planes_. **_Uncomfortable_**.”

Draco smirked. “Sure”, he indulged, squeezing Harry’s hand reassuringly. “Talk to me.”

Harry took another deep breath and spoke, still with his eyes closed.

“I was a trainee. We were undercover, posing as Muggles. Had to fly to Hawaii. There was a technical bug, the landing gear failed. It was a rough landing.”

Draco winced. “I’m sorry. You should have told me.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine”, Harry wheezed.

“Right. That’s why you didn’t want to catch a plane to Paris. In the future, tell me these things.”

Harry nodded curtly, gripping his hand tighter as the plane began landing smoothly.


	20. Golden glow

“Check this out”, Harry said, walking into Draco’s office and depositing a Muggle newspaper on top of his work. Draco frowned a bit, then his eyebrows shot up as he saw it was Bulgarian.

“How did you even read that?”, he asked.

“Translation charm, come on, look”, Harry hastily opened the page he had bookmarked. It was an ad about a small cottage. In Malko Tarnovo.

“It’s in the heart of Strandzha mountain!”, Harry exclaimed, all enthusiasm and happiness. “So? Want to go check it out? Buy it if we like it? Spend lazy Saturdays there?”, he grinned.

Draco smiled. “Lazy Fridays and days-off? We have James for the weekends”, he reminded.

Harry’s smile became a lot more softer as he bent down to kiss his Veela gently.

“I love you for remembering that, even if I already talked with Ginny and she agrees on Wednesday and Thursdays.”

Draco’s lips stretched in a smile, touching Harry’s, brow resting on his Mate’s.

“I love how you know my favorite places, search for a home for us and secretly learn a whole new damn difficult language for me.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Draco smirked.

“Translation charms could only take you so far. And. Stephan spewed about teaching you”, he admitted.

Harry snorted shaking his head. Then he looked in his eyes and whispered,

“Обичам те.”*

Draco’s whole face lit up. “Sap”, he said. But then he added quietly, “I love you too.”

* * *

 

Hermione bustled around the small kitchen in Ron’s flat and kept throwing glances at the clock, making sure she wouldn’t be late for work. She flipped the pancake and flicked her wand at the cupboard just as Ron walked in, still bleary eyed. His favorite jelly landed softly on the table right as he bent down to kiss her cheek.

“Morning, love”, he groaned.

“Good morning”, she answered, leaning into the kiss.

Ron opened another cupboard, closed it, tried with a drawer and closed it too.

“Mione, where are the chocolate chips?”

“To your right.”

“And, uh, napkins?”

“The second cupboard on your left.”

“Will you finally move in here?” 

The sugar jar slipped from her fingers and crashed on the floor, making Ron bolt and spin her around to inspect her closely.

“You alright? Careful with the glass…”, he said, guiding her away from the shreds on the floor.

“I’m… were you serious just now?”, she asked.

Ron looked bewildered. “Of course I was. Am. You know my kitchen better than me, Hermione. You Apparate back to your place, which you also pay rent for, every morning before work, and for what? It’s a five minutes’ walk from here to your office, and… And, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I mean. I never offered, because I didn’t wanna push you. Anyway. The offer’s up, if you want to…”

Hermione kissed him, knowing from experience that it was the best way to shut him up. She pulled back after a while and smiled up at him.

“I just didn’t want to intrude since you hadn’t offered.”

Ron’s pursed lips hinted that he was holding back a snort.

Hermione lost the battle first, chuckling at their stupidity.

Just a second later their kitchen echoed with laugher.

* * *

 

Harry Potter was a very satisfied man, in many ways. He had a job he loved and a good income, along with his small fortune he had inherited from his parents. He had friends and family he could trust with his life and he had a Veela Mate who absolutely adored him.

Thanks to that very same Veela Mate Harry was also very satisfied, sexually. He would never brag but he was very happy and often stunned by Draco’s imagination.

Because, of course, Draco Malfoy considered merely being good in bed too… mainstream. He was also good on the floor, on the table, in the shower, on the roof, mid-flight, beside the fireplace, on the cupboard… It took practice of course. And he and Harry were only able to walk properly thanks to excelling out in healing charms and massages.

But when he had just gotten back in his office, still a little wind-up from a recent chase, and his phone beeped with a message containing a photo of his Mate shamelessly pleasuring himself, Harry was once again stunned enough to trip and nearly fall.

“Okay there, Harry?”, Dean frowned.

Blushing madly, Harry clutched the phone closer to his chest.

“Great! I’m… I feel great!”

Dean looked at him strangely, but then shrugged and kept dragging their suspect to the nearest interrogating room.

Another beep made Harry look around guiltily before he checked the damn device again.

_“Come help me?”_

Harry cursed colorfully.

“I’m taking a lunch break!”

“Huh? But it’s 3 in the afternoon…”, he heard Seamus mutter right before he apparated.

* * *

 

He reappeared right in their bedroom. He heard the water running in their adjoined bathroom but there were no choked off moans; Draco must be only taking a shower then. Harry bit back a smile and sat on the edge of the desk Draco kept in their bedroom simply because it was an antique and he loved it, but it was too small for his study.

The door opened and Draco walked out, stark naked and dripping wet, smiling as he stalked closer to his Mate.

“Have I told you that I find you incredibly sexy in your uniform?”, he purred seductively. Harry couldn’t hold back a smirk.

“Men in uniforms, hm? Stereotypical much?”

“Not _men_ ”, Draco corrected, irritated. “ _You_.”

Harry’s smirk widened and he had to look back down to hide it. “I can relate”, he admitted.

“Oh? Want to have Prosecutor Malfoy punish you for your crimes?”, Draco teased, shimmying his way between Harry’s slightly parted legs. The Auror looked up in his eyes, openly grinning now.

“I’m an officer of the law, too, you know. I can arrest you.”

“For?”

“Seducing an officer of the law”, Harry growled playfully, before throwing his Veela on their bed and crawling on top of him.

* * *

 

 

Draco was especially frisky these days, which resulted in Harry taking regular “lunch breaks” any time of the day. Which, on the other hand, resulted in Hermione bursting through his home Floo on that fateful afternoon, looking for her friend.

“Harry! You won’t believe what I-…”, she began enthusiastically before her eyes widened and she stopped short.

Harry’s Auror robes were unbuttoned and only mantled on his shoulders. He looked disheveled and so obviously smug and satisfied that Hermione felt uncomfortable even looking at his eyes.

“I swear I’ll seal the Floo next time before we… Merlin!”

Draco, just as sexily disheveled and only wearing a pair of formal black trousers, stopped in the middle of his stride, in the middle of his rant, in the middle of even breathing. His stormy eyes went wide and he reached for the closest hanger. Hermione’s own eyes widened and as a respected woman she knew she should look away… from Draco’s far too perfect chest and the amazingly defined pectorals and abs. A look up ended on his perfect stubble, giving the blonde a rugged, sexy look.

Draco finally succeeded in grabbing a simple black robe and hastily throwing it on himself, before he murmured an excuse and walked out. Harry looked back at his friend with a damn cocky and smug look. Hermione blushed furiously, stuttered out a few weak apologies and ran.

She never dropped by uninvited again.

* * *

 

They stared at the small house with the typical new couple’s adoration for their first home. Harry held onto the papers they had just signed and by the looks of it Draco was already planning on changing the curtains and buying a huge bed that would have absolutely no place in the small bedroom.

“I can’t believe it’s ours. Really ours”, Harry smiled.

“Why do I feel like you mean more than just being happy that the deal is sealed?”, Draco asked.

Harry gave him a long look before he sighed, staring back at the house.

“It’s just that… The flat is yours. The French mansion is yours. Grimmauld Place is mine, even though we never go there. But that’s the first place that truly belongs to _both_ of us.”

Draco smiled softly, giving a small shrug.

“I’ve always suspected that you silently judge me for arranging everything at the flat that is, mind you, _ours_ as well. But. Okay. I’ll even let you furnish a room here, all by yourself.”

“Oh, yeah?”, Harry smirked.

“Something small, you see. Can’t trust you all that much.”

Harry laughed, shaking his head as he flung an arm around Draco’s shoulders.

* * *

 

Hermione picked up another macaron, closing her eyes as she ate.

“I think I’m developing an addiction”, she admitted once she swallowed.

Draco waved a hand.

“You’re fine. They’re just amazing as that.”

She rolled her eyes, picking up another one.

“So. Bulgaria last weekend and France this Saturday. Must be nice”, she smiled sincerely without a trace of jealousy.

He shrugged. “You were invited to France. The Bulgarian house is still a work in progress. Slow and exhausting progress”, he sighed.

“Hm? How so?”

“I just want to make it authentic. It won’t do to just throw in a canopy bed as much as I’d like to. So. It takes time. Research. Nerves…”, he muttered the last word, biting into a macaron.

“At least you have Harry”, she noted.

“Harry has no taste, Granger.”

“He chose _you_.”

“ _I_ chose _him_. He just chose me back, because he’s smart if nothing else and can at least appreciate the art if not recognize it.”

She snorted. “Modest, are we?”

“Honest and realistic”, Draco pointed. He then sighed again. “But I’ll admit that he plays a huge part in _relieving_ me from everything annoying”, he smirked smugly, licking his fingers.

Hermione made a face, blushing with memories. “I don’t want to know! I did not hear the innuendo and I do not want to know!”

* * *

 

Draco yawned for the tenth time in the last hour, making his colleague eye him suspiciously.

“Trouble sleeping?”, Simpson asked.

“No, actually”, Draco admitted. “I sleep like a baby, just can’t get enough of it lately.”

“Maybe you need another break”, Simpson offered.

“To tell you the truth, I think it’s the opposite. I recently took probably the longest vacation I have indulged into. It’s always harder when you get back to work from a good holiday.”

“And then there’s the trip to France this weekend”, Simpson added.

“Yeah. Maybe it’s a Portkey-lag”, Draco shrugged.

* * *

 

“Maybe it’s the season’s changing”, Hermione said, digging into yet another box of macarons. “I’ve been sleepy too recently.”

Draco eyed her, currently not sharing Harmione’s newfound macaron-fever. He had no desire for French sweets lately. That in itself was alarming, he decided. Maybe he should visit Alex.

* * *

 

Harry stared at the colorful piece of wool on the floor in their new living room. It was bright, but not obnoxiously so, and it did bring a certain cheerfulness and a cozy feeling in the small space.

“What is it?”, he finally asked.

“It’s called черга**. This one is hand-made. Isn’t it great?”, Draco beamed.

“I love it”, Harry said earnestly, smiling back.

* * *

 

Ron huffed under the weight of four paper bags stuffed with ingredients.

“Babe. You know it’s not, uh, a competition between you and Mom, right? Like, you don’t have to cook so much. She used to feed a small army and can’t get used to not doing it anymore now that we live separately. _You_ don’t have to cook to feed China…”

Hermione added a mango in one of the bags. She looked up at him with huge brown eyes.

“Don’t you like my cooking?”

Ron gulped dryly. Bill’s voice was still clear in his mind from the time his older brother had taught him to “never try to reason with a woman”. Especially about cooking. And “never, ever say that Mom cooks better. _Ever_.”

“I love it, babe”, Ron smiled weakly, holding back a relieved sigh as Hermione beamed back at him.

* * *

 

“Don’t you push yourself too much?”, Harry asked around Ron’s 109th push-up.

“You don’t get it, Harry”, Ron huffed. “It’s a paradox. She likes the six-pack, but she’s stuffing me like a turkey. I’m gonna get round and won’t fit into my uniform, not to mention the underwear she likes so much.”

“I bet she likes that underwear _off_ , anyway.”

“…”

“…”

“We shall not discuss that anymore. Ever again.”

* * *

 

Draco was jogging in his favorite park in Paris. It was warm outside, warm enough to wear a T-Shirt. His “ _Straight outta Slytherin_ ” one. He passed by his favorite bakery but the sweet aroma didn’t appeal to him like it usually did. He wanted something else. Coconut?

And suddenly the park was a tropical beach with palm trees and warm sand under his bare feet. The water looked inviting too but he couldn’t go for a swim because there was a crying baby in…

His chin collided painfully with his desk as Draco’s elbow slipped. His eyes snapped open and he groaned and blinked, startled, confused and hurt. Great, now he was falling asleep at work, too.

Maybe he could use a jog after all, to wake himself up. Freshen up.

Coconut water sounded good, too.

* * *

 

Hermione was on her way of demolishing yet another box of macarons. She was absolutely sure they put something addicting in them. She knew she had to stop, but it was stronger than her. Logically, she was aware that food replaced something she was missing in her life, or so the psychiatrists said.

Ginny stared at her thoughtfully.

“So, you’ve been sleepy and you crave these French sweets.”

Hermione nodded distractedly.

“Honey. When was the last time you had your period?”

Hermione’s eyes snapped up and she stared at Ron’s sister, macarons forgotten. When? She tried to count. Well, it had been some time, but she didn’t really pay such a close attention since…

“I think we should go to the pharmacy”, Ginny said with a small smile.

* * *

 

“Let me get this straight. You complain that your girlfriend fattens you up, but you drag your ass to my place demanding breakfast in the next moment”, Harry observed, flipping the pancake.

“She was late for work, Harry, come on”, Ron all but drooled at the sight and smell coming from the pan.

Speaking of smell…

“What’s that stink?!”, Draco walked into the kitchen, naked from the waist up with only a pair of pajama pants, sleepy, bleary eyed and… a little greenish.

“Pancakes”, Harry frowned. “You love pancakes.”

“Just… take it out, please”, Draco said, walking out quickly, just in time to open the front door as the bell rang.

Hermione burst in, crying, falling into Draco’s arms and whining something incomprehensible.

“Granger!? What’s going on?!”

Alarmed by the crying and the distressed voices, Harry and Ron ran into the small foyer, both rushing towards the hugging couple.

“Hermione! What is it, are you alright?! Are you in pain?! Talk to me!”, Ron panicked, gathering his girlfriend into his arms.

She sobbed uncontrollably for a few more seconds before she produced a small plastic something. Ron looked just as bewildered as before, but Harry knew what it was even before Hermione said, through both tears and a huge smile,

“I’m pregnant.”

* * *

 

“I hadn’t noticed until Ginny pointed it out. The cravings, the sleepiness… It should have been obvious, I just really didn’t think it was possible…”, Hermione trailed off, sighing shakily. She had stopped sobbing, gratefully accepting the chamomile tea Draco provided.

Draco sat back down next to Harry and the Auror could feel how his Veela was somewhat tense, even though he kept his mask firmly on, listening to Hermione.

“I checked the Muggle way first, and then I did the spell”, she went on, smiling at Ron.

There was only one way to describe the other Auror – he was beaming. He had been just as shocked in the beginning, hesitant to believe at first until his girl told them everything.

“We should still go to a Healer for the final check, but…”, she shrugged, her eyes watery again. “We’re having a baby.”

“Let’s go! Right now! Maybe they’d tell us if it’s a boy or a girl…”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “It’s too early for _that_ , Ron. But we should really go”, she agreed and they stood up, going for the door instead of Apparating, Ron already worried about a thousand things.

Once they were outside Harry looked at his strangely quiet Veela.

“That’s it? No joke about Weasley fertility? Or are you worried about-…”

“Do the spell.”

Harry blinked, then frowned confused.

“What?”

Draco was shaking all over.

“The sleepiness. Vivid dreams. The cravings. Intolerance for certain smells and tastes”, Draco was all but hyperventilating. “My hands are shaking too much. Please, Harry. Do the spell.”

Harry stared at his Veela. He didn’t dare hope… not more than Draco anyway. If it wasn’t it… if it wasn’t… it would hurt so much…

He raised his wand, silently praying.

“ _Infans revelio_!”, he said, pointing his wand at Draco’s stomach.

Nothing happened.

At first.

Then…

The palest golden glow started flickering around Draco’s belly. Hesitantly in the beginning. Then stronger. Undeniably there.

Draco pulled the nearest chair and collapsed heavily into it, threading a shaky hand through his messy hair. A nervous, hesitant smile played on his lips and his eyes had a suspicious shine to them when he exhaled shakily,

 “It finally happened. And it’s ours. Ours…”

Draco began half-laughing, half-sobbing, reaching out for his Mate as Harry gathered him from the chair and they curled on the floor, holding each other and just taking the time to believe and bask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I so transparent with the forest scene in the last chapter? :/
> 
> *obicham te - means I love you  
> ** tcherga


	21. Worry

He had _sooo_ seen this coming.

“I’m just worried, because of the weakness the last few days, you know, no energy, falling asleep anywhere…”

“Uhm, that’s normal…”

“And we Portkeyed to France last week! And-and used a plane before that!”

“Like I said…”

“And Apparating to work while pregnant must be dangerous, huh!?”

“Ha-…”

“Oh, Merlyn, and the sex! He’s been so horny these days, oh Godric, we’ve been… and there’s been a baby in there maybe, already…?!”

“Harry!”

There was an audible click when the Auror finally shut his mouth and stared back at Alex. The doctor sighed.

“You are hyperventilating. _And_ giving your partner a headache.”

Draco gave the good doc a weak smile as he rubbed at his temple. He had _soooo_ known that Harry was going to be an insufferable worrywart.

Alex sighed. “Why don’t you go fetch Draco some anti-headache potion?”

“Yes. Of course. Right away”, Harry babbled, bolting through the door.

Draco had just taken a deep breath when the door burst open again and Harry’s unnaturally high voice demanded,

“Wait! Can he even drink any pain-relieving potions in his condition!?”

Draco covered his face with his hands, groaning. He was looking at 9 months of _that_.

* * *

 

He was walking down the hallway to his office, flipping through a folder with a new case when something attacked him out of nowhere, grabbed him and held him bundled up in strong muscular arms.

Strong muscular arms that he knew.

Next thing he knew they were in his office, where he was deposited on his chair as Harry began pacing in front of him.

“ _What_ are you doing?!”, the Auror hissed.

“Working, Harry”, Draco said slowly as if talking to demented child. “I work here, remember?”

“What! How…! What do you mean working, you should be resting and certainly not walking around where anyone could see you and potentially…”

“Snatch me from the hallway? Because that’s just you.”

“Draco”, Harry was getting more and more exasperated. “Everyone knows we are trying for a baby. You were in danger from the moment that became clear, hell, from the moment we even got together! What do you think’s gonna happen when they find out you are actually expecting…!”

“Hey, hey…”

Draco slipped from his chair and gathered his distressed Mate in his arms.

“You cannot expect me to hide for the rest of this pregnancy, and then for the rest of my life. Harry, there have always been and always will be people who want to hurt us or just don’t like us for one reason or another. We cannot let them rule our lives. We cannot and will not hide from them, you hear me?”

“But I can’t let anything happen…!”, Harry rushed again.

“And you won’t”, Draco placated again. “You have put every protective spell you know on me. There are charms and amulets and a Bond that has me in a protective cocoon. _And_ then there are the layers of ancestral magic weaving all around me, that you knew nothing of but now you do. That’s a very deep magic and as long as the Malfoy bloodline is at stake it will do anything to protect me. Add the Potter bloodline magic and you have something pretty impenetrable.”

Harry frowned slightly. “I had no idea about any of that”, he admitted.

Draco smiled. “I know you didn’t. But I did and you need to trust me some more.”

“I trust you with my life”, Harry swore.

Draco’s smiled widened. “I know. But trust me with mine too. And the baby’s as well.”

Harry’s head fell on Draco’s shoulder and he murmured in his ear,

“I just… I’ve seen so much evil out there, Draco. So much darkness. I’m just not ready to tell the word that we have something small and vulnerable and just hope that all that magic will be enough to keep it safe.”

Draco sighed. “I know, Harry. At some point it will become clear. But for now we can start with telling the people we trust.”

Harry’s grip around him tightened some more. But he didn’t disagree.

* * *

 

Hermione had their whole pregnancies planned in a matter of minutes, with dates and graphs and everything. When Draco managed to slip that he actually planned on transferring the fetus in a magical incubator of sorts from the third month till it was born Hermione’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Are you saying that you won’t actually be gaining any weight while I turn into a whale?!”

Ron pulled out two cold butterbeers for himself and Harry while they watched from a safe distance.

Ginny informed him that she could provide him with anything from clothes and shoes to bottles, newborn carrier and so on. He politely declined – he didn’t want to be rude but he wanted the excitement of choosing every single little thing for this child they had waited for so long. Plus, they could afford it, too. 

Mrs. Weasley sent them crocheted baby socks and a note to inform her when they decide on a name so she could start with the sweater.

Draco, already dressed in a green jumper with a big silver D on the front, claimed that those weren’t tears in his eyes, Potter, and it was not hormones and go fetch me a pumpkin muffin and a pickle!

Stephan sent them a _Congratulations!_ card, a plus size T-shirt with a grinning baby saying “Made in Bulgaria” and earplugs. The asshole.

Pierre sent himself. He showed up on their doorstep one early morning, demanding a decent cappuccino, a croissant and an explanation. It wasn’t before he got them all that Claude managed to extract him from their flat with a weak apologetic smile. They stayed (at a hotel) for a couple of days with Pierre on his best behavior, obviously chastised by his lover.

Teddy was supper excited, already planning all of the games he and the baby would play. He demanded a baby boy, since it was so much easier to build a fortress with a boy, you see. Andromeda only shook her head fondly at her grandson and poured Draco some more tea with a wink and a kind smile.

Narcissa took the news with a watery smile but remained calm and composed as always. Only her small trembling hand holding Draco’s belied her nervousness and worry, along with the joy of soon becoming a grandmother.

* * *

 

Turning the guest room into a nursery was practically their only choice if they planned to continue living in their flat. Narcissa had subtly hinted about moving back in the Manor but surprisingly the one more against it was Draco.

“I cherish and respect my ancestor home but I like having a place of my own”, he’d just shrugged when Harry had asked him about it.

He’d also completely refused to do anything in the future nursery before the last trimester.

“Why?”, Harry asked, bewildered and exasperated.

“Call it superstition. I just don’t want to jinx it”, the blonde shrugged.

“Jinx it? Draco, you’re wizard!”

But no argument could change Draco’s mind. Harry found out that said superstition was very popular in some parts of the world, Bulgaria included.

He also found out that Hermione shared the same opinion, for Ron’s utter terror.

* * *

 

Around what Alex estimated to be the second and half month Draco’s eating habits changed too, for his utter horror.

“Come on, the baby wants it”, Harry coaxed, nudging the steak closer to his distressed Veela.

“No! It’s disgusting! You know I don’t eat meat! I will not digest…”

“Draco, that’s why it’s called a craving!”

“I think I’m going to be sick again!”, Draco wheezed before running to the bathroom. For the fourth time that morning.

* * *

 

“I hate you, Malfoy! Everyone’s supposed to become rounder and instead you’ve lost weight!”, Hermione fumed.

“It’s the stupid morning sickness. Why is it even called _morning_?! I puke all the fucking time!”

Hermione’s wrath calmed somewhat. “Did you try some potion?”

“I can’t. It smells horrible. If nothing else, _it_ makes me want to throw up!”, Draco bemoaned.

“I’ve read there are some foods that…”

“Don’t talk about food!”

“…can help with…”

“Uh!”

Draco ran for the bathroom.

He debated moving there permanently.

* * *

 

It was way after midnight. London was cold and wrapped in a tattered blanket of wet fog. Everything was strangely quiet as the city slept.

The sound of hesitant footsteps echoed on the empty street, not with the intent if stalking but rather not wanting to scare the lone figure, sitting on a summoned bench and staring longingly at the showcase of a now-closed shop.

“How did you find me here?” Draco asked hoarsely.

Harry sighed and took a seat next to his Veela. “A man tends to worry when their pregnant partner disappears in the middle of the night. The Bond did the rest.”

“Ah…”, Draco muttered absentmindedly.

“So? Will you tell me what we’re doing here?”

Draco shrugged. “I’m in the process of appreciating that pale blue onesie. You are probably here to fetch me back home.”

“Should I ask why you didn’t just buy it?”, Harry asked carefully.

“...You know why, Harry.”

Harry sighed. He wouldn’t try to lie that he understood his partner fully. There were sides and shades of Draco’s personality that were still a mystery to him, even now; and when they had first started that he wouldn’t have imagined how complicated his Veela actually was.

“I’m just scared, I guess. It’s normal, isn’t it? I am happy, of course I am, but at the same time I’m just so scared that something might… he’s just so tiny and vulnerable yet, you see…”

“He?”, Harry asked hesitantly.

He remembered something else Draco had said a long time ago, long before they had made their dream true. “ _I had a name for him…”_

“You seem pretty sure it would be a boy”, Harry smiled. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Draco smiled back faintly. “There’s no way to prove it yet. I just know.”

Harry’s hand crawled into his and squeezed reassuringly.

“Come on. Let’s go home.”

* * *

 

Harry jolted up in his bed, dizzy and disorientated, looking around wildly. No stone walls. No dragons. No cold marble or an equally cold body resting on it…

“Harry?”, Draco stirred, looking concerned but not daring to touch before he had made sure Harry had snapped out of it – they had talked about Auror reflexes.

Harry was struggling for each and every breath and only the sight of Draco next to him in bed, shifting in front of him in his worry, alive and breathing, helped him shake off the horror.

“It was just a dream, Harry. Just a dream”, the blonde kept saying.

Harry nodded dumbly.

“Was it… the War? The Dark Lord?”, Draco asked quietly.

Harry shook his head, frowning.

“It was so real”, he said. “I was wearing some sort of an armor… holding a sword and a shield and everything. We were in a chamber, but I could see a dragon soaring outside and I could hear it roaring, as if in pain. And then I looked down. There was a burial bed. You… you were… you were lying there. You were wearing the same armor, and a cape, a red cape, and your arms were crossed on your chest, holding a sword and you were… you were…”

Harry knew he was nearly openly sobbing by now.

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m here”, Draco hummed, finally gathering his Mate in his arms.

“I c-can still feel the m-marble a-and your hands w-were j-just as c-cold…”

Draco’s grip tightened. And Harry knew he didn’t have to elaborate as his Veela held on tight. He said nothing, because he didn’t need to, either. His presence alone was everything Harry needed right now.


	22. Heartbeat

Nearing the third month Draco began preparing the magical incubator for the baby. It was placed in the middle of the future nursery and it was essentially a pale blue magical sphere that looked kind of like…

“Don’t say _egg_ in front of him if you want to live to be an uncle for a second time”, Harry advised as soon as Ron opened his mouth.

That very same evening when they were alone again they performed a complicated ritual, pouring some of their own magic into the sphere.

“We’d need to keep doing that for a few days until it’s properly charged. But most of the magic was loaded today – from now on it would need only small shots. Then… then I’d have to transfer him there”, Draco explained, his voice breaking a bit at the end.

“Hey”, Harry said, making the blonde look up. “I thought you said that was the best for the baby.”

Draco nodded. “Theoretically. It hasn’t been done yet.”

Harry squeezed his shoulder. “Alex will be here. Desiree too.”

Of course, Draco wasn’t counting only on his own research. He’d talked things through with specialists, Wizards with medical education. Desiree, their Veela midwife, was a middle aged woman, very capable and experienced.

“And I’m going to be right there next to you.”

Draco smiled, the traces of worry still embedded on his face. “I know. It’s just… the most crucial moment – the transfer and creating a bond between him and me, so that I could still feel him.”

“Feel him?”, Harry asked in wonder.

Draco smiled, a bit more like himself. “Every little thing. How he grows. How he moves. A part of me that’s just apart from me. That’s the idea.”  

Harry kissed his brow. “We’re gonna make it.”

* * *

 

They were so _not_ going to make it!

“You didn’t tell me they were going to have to cut you open!”, Harry yelled, holding onto Draco’s hand for dear life, as Alex held a scalpel over the Veela’s stomach.

“Harry, this is so not the time to be freaking out!”, Draco hissed, a wild look in his eyes as he sought some kind of reassurance from his Mate.

“Everything’s going to be alright, Harry”, Alex placated. “The baby is wrapped in a protective bubble of magic, it will not be harmed at all…”

“It’s my partner I’m worried about!”, Harry hollered.

“It’s just a routine procedure…”, Draco began, panting a little.

“If it’s so routine then why are you panicking!?”

“Because they are holding a knife against _my_ skin and flesh!”

“Precisely what I’m freaking out about!”

“Gentlemen”, Desiree spoke calmly. “I’ll need you to calm down and concentrate your minds and your magic.”

They exchanged a look. Draco shrugged, smiling shakily.

“We got that far, so…”

Harry gritted his teeth. “Next time I want you to explain in details what I should expect.”

Draco nodded. “They’ll… make an incision and… extract the baby. It will be wrapped in a bubble of magic. They are going to transfer the bubble into the sphere and… heal the incision. It’s routine and quick and I don’t want you to worry, just… hold on to me, okay?”

“Okay. Okay…”

“Here we go”, Alex said, making the small cut.

“Concentrate”, Desiree reminded.

Draco began chanting quietly, his grip on Harry’s hand tightening. Harry knew he should be concentrating on creating a bond with his child through Draco, on making sure the child was okay in this moment of extreme vulnerability, but all he had eyes for was Draco’s scrunched up brow. Was he in pain? Probably. Did he even take a pain-deluding potion? Probably not, for the child’s sake. Harry wanted to scream in helplessness.

A pale blue light grabbed his attention and he finally broke eye-contact with Draco to look sideways at the source of the glow. It was a small globe, barely the size of a fist, floating in the air, flickering unsurely. In the center of it was a small pale bean.

Harry felt his breath hitching and his eyes sting. This was it. His baby. According to his Veela – their son. He’d had no idea that something that barely had a shape could mean so much for him. Until this moment the baby had been a surrealistic idea, a concept without a form. But now the idea had a form and it was real.

Draco’s shaky gasp made him look down at him again and they exchanged a look, full of wonder. This small bean, nestled in the midst of the flickering light, was the life they had created with so much love and effort.

The bean and its blue protective bubble were slowly transferred into the incubator sphere, where it flickered for a few moments, as if getting familiar with the new space and getting comfortable, then it pulsed, settled.

“The pulsations you see are the baby’s heartbeat”, Desiree smiled.

Draco huffed a small laugh as tears fell freely down his face. Their hands, still clenched together, held on tighter as they watched the pulsing globe.

* * *

 

Draco installed a rocking chair in the room (which Ron fondly called The Nest but only behind Draco’s back and out of hearing range). He began reading to their bean, impatiently waiting for it to start kicking.

“Two more months”, he bemoaned, waving a baby book he was reading from.

“Why are you in such a hurry to be kicked from the inside? Or at least feel like that?”, Harry wondered.

Draco shrugged, looking away. “I’d like feeling a little more certain, you know. That he’s there. That’s he’s fine. That’s he’s growing.”

Harry smiled, kneeling down next to Draco’s chair and staring at the globe.

“He’s there and he’s fine. You can literally see his heartbeat.”

And for now, it was steady and strong.

* * *

 

Despite her words on the matter, Hermione walked her baby-bump around quite proudly, in quite fitting robes. If one didn’t know any better, he’d say that she actually wanted to show off. But since one knew better, he simply kept his mouth shut. One was also too busy fending off people who wanted to touch her belly.

“Hands off! No, it doesn’t kick yet. But I do! I’d kick your ass if you touch her again!”, Ron growled.  “What’s with people touching other people so freely?!”

“Calm down, Ron. And I’d appreciate if you stop treating me like your possession or a toy that no one is allowed to touch!”

“But you’re my…!”, Ron began, flustered.

“Yes?”, Hermione urged, lifting an eyebrow.

“You’re bearing my child”, Ron finished lamely.

“Right”, Hermione rolled her eyes, walking away.

That wouldn’t do for a certain redheaded Auror.

* * *

 

“Go for something simple. The one thing I know is that she doesn’t like ornate things. She calls them kitschy”, Harry remembered.

“Not really helping, buddy”, Ron sighed, his brow furrowed as he stared at the display.

Harry snored. “Believe me, Ron, this is help. Hermione was much worse when she tried to offer advice on this matter!”

Ron’s face suddenly brightened and he nodded, pointing for the employee.

“This one!”

* * *

 

Hermione flipped another page of her book, trying to get more comfortable on her few pillows, spread on the couch. And that was only the third month! She didn’t want to imagine what it would be like later on. She sighed, flipping her book closed.

“Ron?, she called. “Can you get me something from the fridge?”

“Sorry, love, a little busy here!”, Ron called from the future nursery he had insisted on at least painting.

Hermione huffed an annoyed sigh, getting up from her finally comfy position on the couch to drag herself in the kitchen. She opened the fridge, reached in… and froze.

There was a huge jar of pickles, wrapped with a pale rose ribbon. On top of it was a small velvet box.

Her hand trembled as he finally reached for it and opened the lid. Inside was a simple golden ring. The diamond was surrounded with small red and brown natural stones.

“Like my hair and your eyes.”

She turned around, startled. Ron was leaning against the door frame, smirking smugly. He had a smear of paint on his left cheek and most of his clothes – his oldest ones he could easily spare, so his T-shirt was a little too small for his now bigger frame.

He was the most handsome man she had ever seen.

He kneeled down in the middle of the same kitchen where they had first decided to start living together and looked up at her hopefully.

“So? Hermione Jean Granger, will you do me the honor…?”

“Yes!”, she burst crying, throwing herself in his arms as they almost tumbled to the ground.

“I know you have all the answers but at least let me finish the important questions, woman!”, he laughed, kissing the top of her hair and making her burst laughing as well before their lips sealed in a kiss.

* * *

 

“Just to make things clear, that wasn’t just so you could have some right of possession over me, right?”, she asked when they were snuggled in their bed later that evening.

“No”, Ron answered patiently. “That was so I can have the right to call you more than just the mother of my child. I’ve always seen you as my only possible partner in life. And I’m proud of you. And I want to proudly call you my wife.”

Hermione’s eyes were overflowing again when she looked up at him. Ron frowned.

“What?! What did I say again?!”

She snorted, brushing off her tears and shaking her head with a fond smile.

“You’re such a dummy.”

“Yeah, you’re bound to that dummy now”, Ron grinned smugly.

She laughed. “Yeah. Yeah, I am. I guess it’s a good thing I happen to love him.”

His smile widened as he bent down to kiss her again.

* * *

 

Harry smiled at the note Ron’s owl had just delivered. _“She said yes!”_ Harry shook his head fondly. As if she could have said anything else. Even a blind man could see how much Hermione loved Ron and vice versa. Deciding to call it a night and head home to his own partner and child, Harry turned off the lights in the office he now had all for himself since Ron had taken a leave to do some renovations in the baby’s room (even if he was not allowed to actually buy anything for it just yet).

Harry thought about buying some champagne to celebrate, then remembered Draco couldn’t drink, so he decided on a cake. Cake was something Draco wouldn’t decline.

He stopped by the blonde’s favorite bakery on his way home, getting the sweetest cake he could find despite Alex’s warning about not eating too much chocolate during pregnancy. There were opposing views on the matter anyway, some researchers said it was good for the parent and the child (Draco supported that!) And they would only indulge in a small bit of the cake. And they were celebrating for their friends…

There was a commotion a few steps ahead of him and he frowned, eyes narrowed as he tried to see better in the falling dusk. Two figures were dueling intensely and expertly. Harry pulled out his own wand, reading himself for a fight when his heart stopped beating when he recognized one of the duelists.

The man’s pale blond hair looked like a halo when he froze into the air, hit hard with a spell Harry couldn’t hear.

 “DRACO!”, Harry yelled, startling the attacker, who looked up briefly, his eyes widening in horror, before he bolted and ran.

Harry’s mind was on autopilot, his movements quick with Auror efficiency. In a split second he realized he couldn’t allow himself to abandon his wounded partner and follow the attacker. He cast a tracking spell and threw a tracking device. He called the most detailed memory he could remember of how the man looked, extracted it and sealed it quickly. He cast a Patronus, locked his memory within it and hissed, “Find Ron and Seamus!”, casting his stag away. He then bent down and gathered his unconscious Veela in his arms.

“Draco! Draco… please…”

There was no reaction and the blonde lay unmoving in his embrace. Harry knew he had no time to panic. He cast another Patronus, ordering it to bring Alex, and lifted his bleeding Mate from the ground. The few meters to their home were marked with a thick bloody trail as Harry walked in and gently deposited the fallen Veela on their bed.

“Draco, we’re home… Wake up… Please…”, he pled as he cast every healing charm he knew.

It took what felt like only a few minutes for Alex to burst in, stifle a horrified gasp before quickly gathering himself to examine his patient. He looked pale as he was accessing Draco’s wounds, but just as Harry he was fighting to keep a level of professionalism and help this man he had all but raised himself.

“You’ve done well, Harry, but we need to take him to _St. Mungo_ immediately. He’s stable enough for the Apparition, but we need to be quick. Maintain some physical contact at all times till we get there and then even as we arrive. It’s more helpful for him and his Veela than even healing charms.”

Harry nodded dumbly, barely aware what he was agreeing to. He grabbed his Veela and they fled to the hospital.

* * *

 

“He’s lost a lot of blood. There was a lot of internal damage, but luckily you were on time and the Healers were able to fix the worst of it…”

Harry had difficulty seeing anything as luck right now as he held his love’s pale and cold hand while Alex talked to him, trying to be both professional and a friend.

“From now on his body just needs time to heal. You can say that the worst is over but… it _was_ bad, Harry.”

The Healers had worked on him for two hours, fighting for his life, stitching up this organ and fixing up that broken bone, slowly putting him back together.

“The only things that saved him were the fact that you were there and reacted immediately, casting spells and offering skin-to-skin contact. That and your families’ layers of ancestral magic were the only things that kept him alive. Without them, with this level of damage…”

Alex didn’t finish. He didn’t have to. Harry knew what he was going to say.

He clutched onto his Veela’s cold hand, in an eerie similarity of that dream that had shaken him so badly. Maybe it had been Foreseeing. Maybe he should have known, should have been alarmed and ready for it, not letting this happen.

“It’s my fault”, he croaked out, tears welling up in his eyes again. “It’s because of me and my job that he was targeted…”

“You’re wrong, Harry.”

Harry turned around, surprised to see Ron standing next him, offering quiet support. He hadn’t heard him come in. He’d been so out of it that he hadn’t heard or seen anything. He had been focused only on Draco’s unsteady heartbeat.

“We caught the guy. It wasn’t your enemy, or someone you had arrested. It was someone, whose brother Draco had sent to Azkaban.”

Harry frowned, trying to comprehend this new information. Ron’s hand squeezed his shoulder gently.

“You have to accept that his job can be just as dangerous as ours, buddy.”

Harry squeezed his eyes shut.

“Harry… I hate to separate you from him…”

“No!”

“Hear me out”, Alex insisted. “We have to check on the baby. They are directly connected, so it has probably suffered a great blow, too. You know that’s the first thing Draco will ask about when he wakes up.”

Harry knew he was right. He just couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Draco, even for a minute.

“I’ll stay, Harry”, Ron promised solemnly. “Go check on the baby. I’ll be right here next to him.”

Harry clenched his jaw. “Just for a bit. Just a quick check and I’ll…”

“I know, buddy. I’ll watch over him for you. Go, I’ll be here.”

Harry Apparated.

* * *

 

He was a little scared to step over the threshold of the nursery. He had to stop and take a steadying breath before he opened the door.

The pale blue light flickered, still there, still strong. It did look a little unsteady and Harry’s heart skipped a beat, worrying if their little bean had been hurt in the fight.

“The baby seems okay. It’s a small miracle we got it transferred into the incubator just before… it certainly wouldn’t have survived a direct hit. But its vitals are stable now”, Alex quickly assured him, his hands spread over the sphere and glowing with his own magic as he took in the baby’s state. “It’s just distressed…”

Harry dropped to his knees, moving his own hand to the glowing globe and finally letting his tears fall.

“You and me both, buddy…”, he whispered hoarsely.

The sphere gave a stronger pulse, as if trying to reassure him.

* * *

 

Three days later Draco finally opened his eyes. His throat was dry and he could barely talk but his first word was,

“Scorpius?”

“Huh?”, Harry frowned, still overwhelmed with seeing his Veela awake.

“Th… baby…?”

“It’s fine, it’s okay, strong and steady heartbeat and all”, Harry rushed.

Draco smiled tiredly, closing his eyes on a relieved sigh.

“You’re going to name our baby _Scorpius_?”

A grey eye opened barely. “Scorpius _Remus_. Not a word, Potter.”

Harry smiled, cheeks hurting from the force of it.

* * *

 

It took a week, with all the advanced magic, before Draco was able to eat solid food and finally have some of that celebratory cake – Harry went and bought another one of course. He congratulated their friends, sincerely happy for them, while Hermione sobbed and blamed it all on hormones.

“Get better soon, okay!?”, she sniffed.

“Sure, Granger”, he smiled.

“It’s going to be Weasley soon”, Ron reminded proudly.

“Yes, but it’s Granger, still”, Draco insisted, earning himself a mock-glare.

One more week and he was finally released from the hospital. The first thing he did when they got back home was to visit their baby.

“Hey, Scorp”, he greeted happily. “Look who’s back!”

The globe gave a strong pulse of light as if really happy to be reunited with him.

“You know, maybe we should hold back on the name for the time being”, Harry suggested. “I mean, what if we call it Scorp for the rest of the pregnancy and it turns out to be a girl?” Harry’s brows twisted funnily and so did his mouth, as if he was trying not to laugh when he thought out loud, “Scorpina?”

Draco scowled. “Just… no.”

Harry laughed.

Everything was back in place in his life.


	23. White

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll ask something. Call me childish but let's agree on this: if you don't have anything good to say about this story - you better not say ANYTHING. It's completely your right to not like it but keep that to yourself. If you stumble on something you disagree on just stop right there and forget you ever came across this fic. It might not mean anything to you or you might feel compelled to pour out your bad opinion but please just don't. Because to me, this story means a lot and it took me a while even after it was finished to decide to start posting it. So if you don't like it that's fine - just move on quietly.
> 
> I mean I'm fine with constructive criticism, I really am and it has helped me with this story but if you're not prepared to point out your suggestions and explain yourself calmly and reasonably - just don't start on me guys.
> 
> For those who decide to stick with me to the end - we're very close. The next chapter might clear out some questions (or cause more, I don't even know anymore...) 
> 
> Also, warning for some smut in this chapter.

A few more weeks passed since the attack and Draco was slowly but finally back to full health. Harry still jumped with every little groan, still stood up before him to offer a steading hand, still woke up in the middle of the night to check up on Draco, sleeping peacefully right next to him in their bed. Draco tried to reassure his Mate that he was fine, tried to get him to stop worrying so much but in the end he just sat back and let his partner hustle and bustle and fuss around him.

And while the incident still left a big scar on Harry’s sanity and his heart, and with the prospect of losing Draco, another idea began occupying his head. And his best friends’ engagement only spurred him on.

That’s how the fourth month of awaiting Scorpius saw Harry pacing nervously in their bedroom, practicing a speech he had had in his head for a while.

“Draco. We’ve been together for a while. I am more than confident in our relationship and now as we’re on our way to extend our family, it is only natural that we take the next step and…”

“Harry?”

Harry jumped a foot in the air, making a sound that was _not_ a squeak. He turned around, staring wide-eyed at his Mate.

“Draco.”

“That would be me, yes. Do go on with the speech please”, the blonde said, obviously amused.

Harry gulped. “This is not the way I pictured this.”

Draco pointed a thumb back behind himself. “I can walk out and we can do this later if-…”

“Just! Stop talking”, Harry rushed. He gulped dryly, raked a hand through his messy hair and cleared his throat. “You’ve always said you wanted a formal Bonding”, he finally said.

Draco waited for a moment and when Harry didn’t elaborate further he nodded. “Yes.”

“What if we do both?”

“Huh?”, Draco frowned, clearly confused.

“You know my mother was Muggleborn and was raised according to Muggle traditions and basically… Basically I want a wedding. Bonding and a wedding.”

Draco blinked. “Oh”, was all he said.

“Was that a yes?!”, Harry exploded.

“Were you actually asking me?”

“Yes! I was! Am! Will you Bond _and_ marry me?”

A slow surprised smile bloomed on Draco’s handsome face.

“Yes”, he just said.

* * *

 

They decided to hold the wedding in the garden of the chateau. Draco took care of all the decorations and Pierre – of flower arrangements. They decided on a small ceremony and a reception right afterwards, with their closest friends and family.

“I have to ask you something, before I ask Weasley”, Draco said a few days before the wedding.

“Hmm?”, Harry frowned.

“Would it be too strange to ask James to be our ring bearer?”

Harry smiled. “No. No, I don’t think it’s strange.”

“And how do you think Weasley’s going to react?”

“I think Ginny will be fine with it. He is family, right?”

“Right”, Draco nodded.

So there Harry was, facing the backs of the few rows of white chairs under a stylish canopy of white and champagne. There was a path between the two groups of chairs leading to a beautiful white arch with unobtrusive flower arrangement of the same colors. Kingsley stood there, looking all-important and kind of like he was holding back a smile. At the few rows at the back Ginny was kneeling down, trying to reign in a fidgeting James, dressed in impeccable tiny white tux. They shared a look and a nervous smile and she rolled her eyes, trying to save their rings from being prematurely lost.

Harry checked his watch, noticing it was about time for the ceremony to start. He took a deep breath and tried to tame down his hair as he waited for his partner.

An amused chuckle startled him and a voice made him look up.

“Just give it up, love.”

Draco was there, walking slowly and calmly towards him. He looked like something out of a fairytale, so fucking handsome and sexy in his stylish white tailcoat; and he had dressed up just for Harry. The realization made Harry’s heart skip a beat as Draco, looking as smug and confident as ever, reached out and took his hand, ready to lead the stunned Auror down between the rows of friends, colleagues and family.

“You’re wearing your parade uniform”, the blonde smiled.

Harry nodded dumbly. “I thought you like it.”

“I do”, Draco hummed, sounding pleased and winked at Harry when his green eyes widened with the words Draco was going to say in just a few minutes, in a much more important context.

Ginny cleared her throat to catch their attention and signal that she was about to let go of the little hurricane that was their son. Draco nodded, still with that confident smile, which widened into a full grin as James (who had recently gained confidence in walking by himself) all but ran ahead with the pillow with their rings. Ron caught him at the end of the path while the other guests laughed and Harry and Draco calmly stepped on the white walkway.

* * *

 

The rest of the wedding was a big blur in Harry’s memory. He barely remembered Kingsley, sounding solemn as he led the ceremony; him and Draco exchanging vows and rings, being pronounced wed – a family of Potter-Malfoy; the Bonding ceremony that took place right after with ribbons of silver and golden magic weaving around their wrists, binding their magic forever.  Their friends and family applauded loudly (Hermione quietly sobbing in her silken handkerchief), as they stood under the arch, grinning like a couple of loons. Harry’s few close colleagues, also in parade uniforms, lined up on the sides of the walkway, drawing out wands and casting an arch of fireworks the couple went under.

He remembered their first dance, falling in love all over again with Draco’s smile, so unbearably happy and proud to call this man his husband. He knew there were other couples dancing, other dances during that long night. But that first dance was the one Harry would remember forever.

* * *

 

The dawn was just on the horizon, the air outside still and caught between day and night. The thin white drapes of the French windows moved slightly with the breeze as the couple, standing just inside the balcony explored each other, as if they met for the first time.

Harry’s fingers ran through Draco’s messy blond locks, as if just now noticing how soft they were. Their eyes met, staring at each other, taking note of every speck of silver and green. Draco’s own nimble fingers ran down Harry’s crisp white shirt; they had already discarded the heavy blue greatcoat of the parade uniform. The small buttons were opened slowly, teasingly, driving Harry wild.

“Remember the first night we spent here?”, Draco whispered in his ear.

“I could never forget that…”, Harry panted, closing his eyes.

“Your trust meant everything to me”, Draco’s voice caressed the side of his throat as he bent down to kiss every small bit of flesh revealed. “I wanted our wedding night to be right here… where we first really connected…”

Harry’s shirt fell on the floor.

“…where our bodies met and became one…”

Draco’s long pale fingers crawled over the buckle of Harry’s belt. Still, he didn’t hurry. Every little move, while precise, was slowly taking the Auror to the edge.

“You’re going to end this before you’ve even started it…”, Harry groaned hoarsely.

Between their jobs, the baby, the attack and making sure Draco was healing fine, it had been a while since they had last indulged themselves.

He felt Draco’s smile against his naked chest before the blonde gently nudged him backwards until he fell onto the bed. Draco smiled a slow, sinister smile and kneeled down, spreading Harry’s legs further apart.

“I’m going to need you to hold on for me, Auror Potter-Malfoy…because I have planned this night for a while…”

He finally pulled out Harry’s aching member and bent down, never breaking eye-contact as he slowly licked a long line up the shaft. When he finally sucked him in, Harry had to close his eyes and bite hard on his bottom lip – it was even that, or coming already and he had to hold on for his husband…

Draco worked him easily, expertly bobbing his head, taking him all in, nuzzling the coarse dark curls at the hilt and humming appreciatively. Harry choked on a bitten off moan, as he buried his fingers into blond locks, trying not to pull too hard, trying to keep still. And he could just feel it as full lips, swollen, wet and reddened from the blowjob, pulled back in a smile around his cock, fully aware what they were doing to him.

“Look at me…”, Draco demanded hoarsely.

He opened his eyes, his mouth opening on a quiet moan at the sight of his cock-head on Draco’s tongue, pale fingers wrapped around the shaft. His own fingers clenched against his will into blond hair, making the Veela whimper.

“S-…”, Harry began.

A finger fell over his lips as the blonde slowly stood up.

“Who said I didn’t like it?”, he smirked, dropping his last remaining clothes and standing between Harry’s spread and trembling legs in all his naked glory; the Auror was pleased to see that Draco was just as affected as he was, rock hard and dripping.

Harry gulped dryly when Draco straddled him, reaching out to hold on his Veela’s hips as they caged his own thighs. Draco reached for Harry’s hard and leaking member, guiding it between his pale legs. He smiled when Harry’s eyes widened and he looked ready to argue.

“Relax. I’ve taken care”, he winked, sinking down on Harry with a long, drawn-out moan.

Harry couldn’t ask when, couldn’t really ask anything as all thought flew out the window the second he felt Draco clenching around him again. It took a few slow movements with Draco writhing in his lap before Harry could formulate a decent comeback.

“Always love to be on top, don’t you? Especially this way…”

Draco’s smirk showed him he got the reference to that time in the middle of a Bulgarian forest, where they had most likely conceived Scorpius. Harry gripped a pale thigh with one hand and thrust up sharply, making Draco cry out, loud and long, his back twisting under Harry’s other exploring hand.

“Ah! Ah-gain! ’m close…”, Draco moaned, sinking down again, seeking out those hard upward thrusts. Harry compelled, watching in fascination as the white wings burst from Draco’s back, trembling in their passion as the blonde came hard and fell apart in Harry’s arms. Helpless in the face of this beauty and unable to hold back any longer, Harry followed him, teeth sinking into Draco’s Claiming Mark, making the Veela cry out again and grip his black messy locks hard as they rode on their high.

* * *

 

That night Harry dreamed.

And maybe it was because Draco always talked about a baby boy that Harry subconsciously conjured the picture of a son, laughing as he was carried on Draco’s shoulders, his messy blonde hair waving with the wind, small pearly white teeth glowing on the sun, green eyes almost squeezed shut as he laughed…

* * *

 

He was woken up early by a distressed Veela.

“We need to go back home”, Draco said urgently.

“Wh…? But it’s”, Harry checked, “four in the morning…”

“I know. I’ve arranged for the quickest portkeys to London…”

“Arranged… how? It’s the middle of the night…”

“Everything is possible when you know the right people”, Draco hissed, throwing random clothes into a suitcase.

“Draco”, Harry caught his hands, only now noticing that they were trembling. “What’s going on?”

“The baby”, Draco wheezed, looking panicked and on the verge of hysteria. “Something’s wrong, I felt it, something’s off…!”

“Okay. Okay, we’re going.”

Draco took a deep breath and nodded, trying to pull himself together while Harry threw on some clothes and they fled the house in the darkness of the night.

* * *

 

The dawn had just broken when they stepped in their flat, bone-tired but hurrying for the nursery. Draco burst in first, inspecting the glowing globe frantically. It looked just like when they’d left – warm and peaceful. It pulsed happily when they entered the room, but otherwise it looked undisturbed.

“Well?”, Harry asked.

Draco shook his head, looking perturbed.

“I don’t know. There was a sort of tugging in my belly and…”, he gasped.

“What? What!?”, Harry felt his stomach drop.

“There it is again!”, Draco whispered.

“Are you in pain?!”, Harry asked, voice sounding harsher than he meant.

“No…”

“Is he?!”

“I… don’t think so”, Draco frowned.

“I’m calling Alex”, Harry declared.

* * *

 

Alex was just mildly irritated to be woken up so early but he came immediately when Harry told him about their worries. He examined the sphere, the baby and Draco and then, finally, just as Harry was losing his mind, _smiled_.

“What?!”, Harry asked for the thousandth time that night.

“How would you describe the feeling exactly?”, Alex asked Draco.

“Uh. First I thought it was a tugging, but then, more… like a fluttering of sorts?

Alex nodded to himself with that same small smile. He looked at them both and then said,

“The baby’s fine. It’s just moving. It’s not quite a kick yet, but…”

Draco burst in tears. Harry immediately kneeled and gathered him in his arms.

“Hey. Hey, it’s okay, he’s okay. Heard what Alex said? He’s just moving around.”

Draco nodded.

“I’m s… s-sorry”, he sobbed. “I just woke up i-in the m-middle of the night a-and… I thought… I thought…”

Harry hid a smile in his Veela’s blonde locks as he shushed and rocked him gently to calm him down.

They were okay. They were _all_ okay.


	24. Chosen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may clear out some questions (hopefully). I hope you like it. There's only an epilogue left after it.

**_Two years later_ **

“I can’t believe you talked me into this, _again_!”

“Can we… not have this talk… right noooooowwww!?”

“Harry, Draco, I need you to concentrate! You know the drill already. I’m going to make the incision. Focus your magic!”

Draco’s hand was trembling as it held Harry’s for dear life. There was something wild in his eyes when they searched his Mate’s green orbs.

“If… if something…”

“No!”, Harry shook his head vehemently.

“Listen to me!”, Draco grit his teeth. “I love you. But if something happens with me, Scorp and… and those two come first.”

“Concentrate your magic, Draco, they need twice as much! Gather it and separate it on two equal parts”, Alex instructed.

Draco closed his eyes, his brow furrowing as he focused. Through their bond Harry felt him pouring _all_ of his magic into the two new lives…

“Draco… Draco, no! Hey! Think about me! Think about Scorp, we need you, too! Hey, don’t… DRACO!”

Harry clenched his eyes tightly shut, focusing in turn on pouring his own magic into his fading Mate’s weak body…

* * *

 

The light streamed down through the glass ceiling of the vast room, making the blinding whiteness even more bright. Harry squinted through the light and the slight fog. It wasn’t a room. He knew this place. He had seen it _this way_ only once before. He could make out the platforms and a few benches, on one of which he was sitting on, himself.

“Not again…”, he sighed.

An amused chuckle startled him.

“Indeed, it gets quite mundane to keep meeting here.”

Harry felt his lips pull in a reluctant smile. “Hello, Professor.”

“Hello, Harry”, Dumbledore smiled back.

“Am I dead… then?”, Harry said, changing the ‘again’ in the last moment.

Dumbledore seemed to have caught that. He steeped his long fingers in his lap, looking straight ahead as he asked,

“Do you wish to be?”

 _What a weird question_ , Harry thought as he answered out loud, “No, of course not.”

 “Your friends and colleagues seem to think differently.”

Harry frowned. “I don’t…”

“And while it’s understandable to want to prove oneself as a young Auror, you, my boy, are often described as suicidal.”

“Sir, I really don’t understand…”

The scene changed. Suddenly he was a spectator to a long forgotten memory.

_“Garett, get down! Down!”, Harry yelled, casting a Protego and throwing a curse at their attackers. The new kid was dumbfounded, totally thunderstruck. Harry muttered a curse, one that had nothing to do with magic, and ran towards the Junior Auror. “Garett, get the f-…”_

It was weird, watching himself falling to the ground in a puddle of blood. Any minute now Draco would dive in from the sky.

Only he wasn’t.

Harry frowned again. “I don’t get it. That happened years ago…”

“No, Harry. It _just_ happened.”

Harry’s heart skipped a beat or two. His frown deepened.

“No. No, this cannot be”, he choked out a forced laugh. “This is absurd, I remember that! It was the night Draco’s Veela magic saved me and that’s how we became Bonded and… We’ve been married for two years! We have a child, two more on the way, that’s why I must have…!”

“Harry. All of this, your whole life being Mated to Draco Malfoy, has only happened in your head, born and lived in the space of a few moments; note that some of his reactions, his stubbornness, his fixation on things, him giving up his life for your children during childbirth – that’s a projection of _yourself_. In reality, I’m afraid you’re still lying in a puddle of blood after saving the young Auror Garett. You could have summoned a protective shield but instead you threw yourself, your life, in harm’s way.”

Harry felt weak and strangely hollow.

“It’s not real? The last two years, they happened only in my head?”

“Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean it is not real?”

Harry’s head snapped up.

“Is it?”

Dumbledore gave him a long look that was both patient and considering.

“It can be. Most of the Draco in your head is based on the Draco you see every day in the Ministry’s halls; bar the characteristics that you have projected on him but that are actually all you. But, yes, Harry, a real relationship with the real Draco Malfoy who really is a Veela very interested in you **_is_** possible. If only you choose it. If you choose life. Because right now you’re in between.”

“If I choose it”, Harry asked quickly, his throat and lips dry, “if I choose life, would that be the life I… the one I had in my head so far? With Draco and… and everyone else…?”

Dumbledore’s smile was slow and mystic.

“It can be.”

“Then I do….”

* * *

 

Harry opened his eyes, blinking a few times. He was no longer in pain. In fact he felt… strangely relaxed and full of energy. He looked around the room he recognized as one of St. Mungo’s.

The girl sitting next to his bed, dozing off, was Hermione.

Feeling his eyes on her, her own eyes suddenly snapped open and she beamed at him.

“Harry! Oh, thank Merlin! How are you feeling?”

Harry bolted.

“Harry! Harry, wait!”

He ran out of the room, frantically looking around. He grabbed a Healer who was passing by and half-yelled, half-demanded Draco’s room number. The shocked Healer muttered the number and Harry ran again, ignoring Ron and Hermione’s worried calls. He finally found the room and burst in. He only had the time to register: 1. Narcissa Malfoy’s shocked and tearstained face and 2. Draco Malfoy’s deathly pale unmoving body before he acted on his instincts and grabbed one sickly pale hand.

Nothing happened at first and Harry was about to curse and cry in frustration when he noticed the smallest of changes occurring in Draco’s body. The hand he was holding on to was no longer as cold as it had been; some color was slowly creeping back on the blonde’s face; he began breathing easier.

Harry let out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding back.

“It’s working…”, he sighed, weak with relief.

“You were just on time”, Narcissa whispered, sounding like she was holding back a sob; she probably was, Harry decided when he looked up at her, but she tried to smile at him as she said brokenly, “Thank you.”

It took seven more hours before grey eyes finally blinked open and stared right into Harry’s own green orbs. Draco smiled slowly, contently.

Harry smiled back. “Just so you know, I Chose you too.”


	25. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it was a great journey :) Thank you sticking up with me and leaving such amazing (mostly ;)) reviews. Благодаря! :)

Harry looked around nervously, noting every exit, nook or a shady alcove. His senses were on overdrive, hyperaware of every move, every twitch. This place will never be the same again, he thought, lost in memories just like every other year. Because every other year, where people saw smiles and excitement, Harry saw blinding light and a slight fog.

His hand gripped Draco’s fingers tighter.

James sighed, rolling his eyes. “Come on, Dad, no one’s gonna snatch us from Kings Cross, right under Harry Potter’s nose.”

Harry cleared his throat. “I just don’t like crowds”, he muttered.

James rolled his eyes again. “Right.”

Draco’s fingers squeezed reassuringly.

“Daddy, look, it’s auntie Mione and uncle Ron!”, Lilly yelled, running to meet the rest of the family.

Harry watched as his daughter ran in front of him and tried to suppress the feeling that she was running away from him, slipping away, far away…

Draco’s strong hand let go of his hand and crawled around his waist instead. It was obvious that his husband tried to change his line of thoughts as the blonde whispered in his ear,

“Do remind me”, Draco sounded amused, “how did your and Ginny’s son turned out a brunette but you and I of all people managed to have a redheaded daughter?”

Harry smirked. He didn’t answer, just pulled out a medallion – a gift from Draco again, and flipped it open, showing the inside to his husband. On one side was a family portrait of all of them; on the other was a picture of Harry’s parents. His Mom seemed to not just smile but preen with pride when her granddaughter was mentioned; she flipped her long dark red hair over her shoulder and winked.

“Ah”, Draco nodded, smiling. “Right. I’ll go get her.”

Harry watched as Draco walked briskly after their youngest child and shook his head as he heard his husband’s voice yell an exasperated _“Lilly Narcissa, get back here right now!”_

In reality, the Veela ritual had turned out to not be as dangerous as it had been in Harry’s dream. Draco had suggested it as a common Veela knowledge* along with all the other options without insisting on either. It didn’t even include all the questionable elements the Draco in his dream had had to argue about in court. They had in fact done everything quietly and without any public hustle. Everyone but their closest friends and family somehow assumed that with all their traveling abroad Harry and Draco had just adopted all their children (except James) and Draco had indeed hinted about actually doing that once or twice. It wasn’t out of the question but Harry was happy with his life as it was right now. He supposed that was possible thanks to all the lessons he had learned in that dream. Now, Harry himself wasn’t as reckless and stubborn as he had once been, all of his friends admitted gratefully.

Someone else fell into step with Harry, pulling him out of his thoughts, and a familiar voice drawled,

“Let me guess: he’s bitching about redheads again.”

Harry opened his mouth to berate his oldest son on his usage of words he shouldn’t use but just then James tripped forward as Scorpius hung on his back, attacking from behind like a real Slytherin, choosing his brother’s weakest spot. They fell into their usual bickering and their place next to Harry was soon taken by a short raven haired boy with stunning green eyes.

“Dad?”

“Yes, Albus?”

“What if I…”, Al blushed and shut up.

Harry stopped trying to catch up with the others and instead crouched down to be on Albus’ eyelevel.

“Hey. Look at me”, he said, waiting for his son to do so. “What is it, buddy?”

“What if I’m sorted into Slytherin?”, Al whispered.

Harry frowned. “Well. Your Dad was a Slytherin, Scorp too…”

“But I look so much like you and everyone expects me to be a Gryffindor like you!”, Al rushed.

Harry snorted. “Albus Severus. You were named for two Headmasters of Hogwarts. One of them was a Slytherin and he was probably the bravest man I ever knew. You don’t have to be what everyone expects you to be. You are brave enough to be what you want to be.”

“Whatever I want? I can choose?”, Al’s green eyes were big and round with wonder.

Harry nodded. “I did. I asked the Sorting Hat…”

“See! You chose Gryffindor!”, Al pointed out, reminding Harry so much of his other Dad when he was fully into an argument or a closing speech.

“Yes”, Harry said patiently, “But if I had chosen Slytherin, maybe I would have befriended your Dad sooner…”

“But you wouldn’t have met aunt Hermione and uncle Ron.”

Harry stared at his son. “You know what? You only look like me. You totally think like Draco and that’s why you would probably do great at his house.”

Al scoffed and opened his mouth to argue some more but Ginny’s cheerful laugher halted him as she stopped right next to them.

“He so absolutely _owned_ you again, didn’t he?”, she smirked.

Harry hung his head, feigning shame. “He so did”, he admitted.

“He _is_ my son after all”, Draco said with a faint trace of his old haughtiness, but the effect of it was lost in his warm smile. “You would be a great lawyer, Al. Mostly because you’re cool and disciplined when you argue. Unlike some other people”, he stared sternly at Scorpius, who was pouting and rubbing his red ear, and then back at Harry. “This one only looks like me, but he’s all _you_.”

Ginny laughed again. Behind her, her husband held a beautiful baby girl, smiling a bit awkwardly.

“Hey, man”, Ron greeted as they neared the rest of the family. “Did you find a parking spot?”

“Yes, Ron, I’m sure he did”, Hermione rolled her eyes with a fond smile to her husband she then directed at the rest of the group. “Hey, guys.”

The whistle made them all jump, reminding them what they were all here for, and they hurried to help the kids load their suitcases on the train. Soon, way too soon, the Hogwarts Express gave a last long exhale of smoke and its sleek red body turned around the corner, taking with it the smiling faces and waving hands of Harry’s kids.

“Harry.”

That was always the hard part, each and every year. He couldn’t tear his eyes from that corner where the train _wasn’t_ anymore. His hand was still outstretched in a wave.

Warm fingers wrapped around his, lowering his arm. Harry gulped dryly.

“Say the words, please.”

He felt Draco’s soft smile even though the blonde was behind him. And like every other year his husband’s gentle voice reminded him that,

“It’s real. You, Harry Potter-Malfoy, are married and Mated to me, Draco Malfoy-Potter and together we have Scorpius, Albus and Lilly, and your oldest, James. It’s not a dream, Harry. It’s real.”

Harry let a shuddering breath, leaning back in Draco’s embrace. He finally allowed himself to close his eyes, relieved at the knowledge that he had made the right choice, all those years ago. And this time he would not wake up and have to fight for it all over again.

Everything was finally alright.

“Maybe we should have another child”, Draco mused.

Harry’s eyes snapped open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *the ritual is NOT something out of genuine Veela lore and was created specifically for this story so don’t mix things up ;)


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